An Invisible Cataclysm
by AnxSoc
Summary: Habrynn Adaar already had it rough as a Tal-Vashoth, but having the Mark and the Inquisition thrust upon her has strained her confidence. The stress of being the Herald of Andraste may undermine her sanity, and in the end, the fate of the World. This began as a F!Inquisitor Qunari x Iron Bull story, and became much more.
1. A First Spark

The title of this story is based of a snippet of dialogue that occurs after the events at Adamant:

_Dorian, "I'm trying to wrap my head around the idea that someone walked into the Fade again."_

_Vivienne, "We should count ourselves fortunate no cataclysm was unleashed."_

_Dorian, "So far as we know."_

_Vivienne, "What are you suggesting, my dear? An invisible cataclysm lurking amongst us?"_

_Dorian, "We don't know what happened to Corypheus and his lot. Even he doesn't seem to. Not.. clearly. I'm SAYING we should be careful what we assume, when it comes to such matters."_

The story begins just after the Winter Ball at Halamshiral, and involves the romance between Habrynn Adaar and The Iron Bull, as well as a new series of events that parallel part of Dragon Age Inquisition.

Some parts of this story depict sexual acts, but I hope in a tastefully vague way. If you're not okay with that, then at least you were forewarned.

Please review! This is my first time ever posting to this site. I've written and drawn other stories, but this sort of blindsided me from nowhere. I'm just hoping others enjoy the story as I try to spin it out of my head.

**LASTLY! I do not own Dragon Age or the characters, nor do I receive compensation for this work.**

* * *

Habrynn Adaar thumbed the page again. It was so small. Such a short list, but it weighed on her. She stared at it as she mindlessly opened the first door, and the second, and wound around the banister overlooking the broken secondary hall below her quarters.

She continued to stare at it, as if fixing each name to memory would undo the impossible decision she had already made. Cullen's unwavering words echoed back to her.

"Can't we split the unit? Surely, we can still follow, AND save them-"

"No." He had cut her off, "No. EVERYONE would die, then. You have to make the decision."

She wanted to shout that perhaps he could make the decision. or any of the other advisors that gathered around the war table with years more experience and training than her. But that faithful gaze they fixed on her answered, as it always did. Then, she became logical, as she often did when backed into a corner. She knew what she had done.

And now she was walking into her quarters, still memorizing the small list of names, as she had been as she paced the gardens, and the causeways, and all the way up to the top floor late in the day, as the sun was beginning to set.

A quiet squeak of distressed wood caught her attention, dispelling the fog in her mind. She turned to see The Iron Bull sitting smugly on her bed.

"So, listen," He said, "I've caught the hints, I get what you're saying… You want to _ride the bull_."

After all the help she'd given him, all the sly remarks and the encouragement in both directions, it didn't feel like a surprise at all. More of a 'finally'. After he'd practically ignored her at the Winter Ball, she was starting to wonder if she just wasn't his type.

"Can't' say I blame you," He pondered aloud, "but I'm not sure you know what you're asking. Not sure if you're ready for it."

Habrynn tapped the note board against her chin and just grinned. All that guilt was forgotten for a moment. She crooned, "Oh, I'm ready for it."

"See, you say that, but you _really_ don't know what that means." He continued to press.

"So why don't you show me?" Habrynn joked.

After he dominantly raised her arms over her head, and pinned her hands with just one of his own, he smirked, "Last Chance."

Her breath caught in her throat as the board clattered to the ground, the sound disappearing into the deafening pounding of her blood in her ears. She searched his face for a moment, and heard herself whisper, "Please, won't you-" But the words could hardly escape her throat. It was so tight, as if she was a breath away from crying.

"Hmm?" He grunted.

She licked her lips, and smiled, trying to focus on _him_ instead. "A little slower, and a _lot_ harder."

He only replied with an affirming smile before lowering his grip to sweep her towards the banister. He pressed his giant hands into the sides of her hips, pushing her weight into the hard square edge of the rail behind her as he finally looked at her from head to toe with a hungry gaze she had never seen him turn towards her.

The full extent of his self control was suddenly crystal clear to her. As terrifying as that realization was, she didn't have long to ponder it.

"Do you have another one of those silly suits of yours?"

"What? Yes, one more-ah!" She squeaked as he put two fingers to her collar and then snapped the row of toggles open with one pass. Cut glass baubles and bits of brass clinked against the ground as he yanked the jacket open. She let out a sharp gasp as he tugged the inner corsetry down and then cracked the small closing pins with one tug of both hands.

"I expect these cinches on a serving girl, not the Inquisitor," He rumbled.

"The damn suit doesn't look smooth enough withou it-ahh!" She stammered as he clenched the back of her head by her hair. He tugged until her eyes angled up to meet his.

"I. Don't. Give. A. Damn. About your _clothes _right now," He purred, and then his mouth met hers and it became a fight to see who could pull whose clothing off the fastest. It was hardly a contest. If she had felt a difference in size before, it was a hundred fold stronger here, with his strength turned on her instead of their enemy. Though she was Qunari, she'd always been the runt amidst her own kind, only ever feeling large and imposing when she stood next to the more common races of Thedas.

So many men before had handled her like she was an Ox made of Porcelain, or cringed at her advances like she might crush them. As The Iron Bull slammed her into the stone wall with at full force and hefted her hips up for better purchase between her legs, she let out a whimper of pleasure, and an then a lusty breath as he drove his fingers between her lips.

To say she was wet was an understatement. The moment she had seen him there on her bed, she had already felt the heat rising, and heard her heart pounding in her chest faster. He kneaded her labia back and forth, crushing into her, but moving slowly. It was agony, and it was amazing, and it was almost too much right away.

"I'm-" She breathed into his ear. He responded with bite on her collarbone that made her gasp, and her legs clench around his waist harder.

"Did I say you could, yet?" He crooned, and withdrew his hand and pressed hard into her mound, idly brushing over her public hair. He bit into the same spot below her neck again, just the tips of his teeth, and his exhales moistening her skin with each pant. He moved up her neck in quick succession, pinpricks of lightning leading up to her mouth. For a moment they kissed, grinding their tongues together, feeling the angle of each other's teeth.

He looked into her eyes as he placed one hand to the stone, and the other curled up under her asss and gripped her tight. He looked serious a moment, and then chuckled, "I do hope I'm not the first." As he rocked his hips into hers, feeling his cock dampening against the outside of her folds.

Habrynn bit her lip and shook her head,"Stop talking."

And he thrust into her, and she clenched her teeth. She didn't want to give him the satisfaction of knowing, but it had been a long time, and it did hurt. There was no gentleness in his rhythm, though. She was still thinking about the clenching pain between her legs as the first orgasm hit her, and she cried out, "Maker be damned!"

He slowed for a few thrusts, before gripping her jaw in his hand and grinning down at her. "So quick?" he gloated as he began to pick up pace again. "We have all night ahead of us…"

*,*,*

Habrynn cringed as she tried to sit up in bed. The glacial air attacked her sweat-drenched skin, and muscles no amount of fighting could train were crying out from over-use. Bull was getting dressed; a much shorter, simpler process than her normal dress uniform she was expected to parade around in during the day. Who thought it was a good idea to stud gems to the inside of the thighs of her pants, she would never know…

Bull grunted and leaned over to pick up something from the floor near the window where he had first questioned her. He flipped it back and forth, and then scrutinized it. Adarr's heart froze as she realized he was looking over the list she had been worrying over all day.

"Sister Paulette. Mortimer Farrell. Gadry Bronton…-" Iron Bull began to read it aloud, unknowingly reciting the names of the injured soldiers and Chantry sisters she had left to die, so they could pursue the Red Templars that would commit even worse crimes if allowed to escape. Euphoric endorphins dissolved in a flash, and her eyes welled up and burned. She had called off an alliance with the powerful Qun collective because she couldn't watch Bull sacrifice his dearest friends fall to the Venitori. And a mere day later she had sentenced dozens of innocents to die with a few cold words.

Iron Bull flicked the board to face her. "What's with the list, Boss?"

Habrynn glared out the window into the night sky. Rage and guilt burned in her stomach as she spat back at him," 'Boss'? Don't call me that. Not tonight."

He tossed the board on the bed, and sauntered down the stairs. Habrynn stayed fixed on the window opposite until she heard the door shut with a surprisingly delicate 'click'.

She yanked the furs and quilted covers over herself, and screamed into her pillow, suffocating the tears and sobs as best she could.

Bull glanced to the side as he closed the door. Their Spymaster was walking up the stairs holding a report. Lellianna's poker face was an equal for his. The two of them searched for a crack in the other's expression until Bull finally waved her away. "Not tonight." He smiled. "Let her rest."


	2. Second Impressions

**SPOILERS! **This section of the story takes place after Halamshiral, as Skyhold is dealing with a variety of odds-and-ends missions. Habrynn has a chance to walk through the Fade with a certain Elven Apostate, and mulls over her own inadequacies. I've been writing this story under the assumption that you have played the game before. It isn't my desire to transcribe the game's dialogue, so I try to summarize those sections.

Some parts of this story despite sexual acts, but I hope in a tastefully vague way. If you're not okay with that, then at least you were forewarned.

**Please review!** This is my first time ever posting to this site. I've written and drawn other stories, but this sort of blindsided me from nowhere. I'm just hoping others enjoy the story as I try to spin it out of my head.

**LASTLY! I do not own Dragon Age or the characters, nor do I receive compensation for this work.**

* * *

The next two weeks were a string of political chores and small skirmishes that left her so tired that Habrynn fell into bed at night without even removing her gear. She would awaken the next day sore from sleeping on her staff or from curling up with a boot heel wedged under her legs, and then repeat the whole process the next day. A new campsite would await her, and a different set of targets to kill or artifact to recover would fill up her day. One day they were chasing down Venitori that Dorian had marked on some special shit list for execution, and the next they were tracking down important Mage Circle tomes in backwater bandit camps rife with traps, leeches, rats, or all of them combined. Saddle sores and the scent of wood alcohol to clean various wounds and scrapes became the strongest indications that she was still alive, and still in a living purgatory.

At first she was glad that she had left The Iron Bull out of her patrol party. He would have been bored by the ordinary assignments they were grinding through, and her face still burned red hot anytime she thought about him. Having him nearby would have been a lethal distraction. For him or her, she wasn't sure yet. But as the days turned into weeks, a heavy, bitter clumb of guilt condensed in her stomach. The last she had seen him, she was yelling at him for something that wasn't even his fault.

"And after that amazing sex," Habrynn thought with a wicked grin spreading across her face. Dorian gave her a quizzical look at the time. Blackwall seemed oblivious, but Varric shot back a knowing smile that seemed to say, "Did you enjoy yourself?" The blood drained from her face instantly, and she didn't smile again until she was safely out of sight of Varric's writing inspiration.

She was in such an exhausted state by the time she returned to Skyhold, she could not even remember how she reached her bed. When she found herself in Haven, it didn't even occur to her that anything was amiss. She strolled through the old base camp with Solas by her side, happy to listen to him talk idly of their journey together, and how important he felt her Mark and her role in overtaking the first rift had been.

The uncanny situation played itself out until he held her arm to the sky, and the world flickered and snapped like a banner flapping in a hard wind. She pulled back, and searched Solas's unknowable eyes for an explanation.

"No… wait… it didn't happen like this…." She blurted out. "This isn't real… is it?"

Solas only smiled like a instructor whose student had finally learned to block the most basic of attacks. "Where do you think we are? Perhaps that's a better question for when you…"

"_Wake up."_

Habrynn gasped aloud, and fell back against the bed into a sprawl of furs and half-removed clothing. She frantically peeked in every direction around her, checking where she was and who else might be in her room.

"My room," she reminded herself. "I'm back at Skyhold… ugh…" She held her head as a wave of pain washed over her. A pulsing ache reached out from behind her eyes and she grimaced as the Mark throbbed with a dull pain she hadn't felt since The Conclave.

She hissed long breaths in and out, willing the pain to go away, willing the low whistle of the wind outside to quiet just long enough for her to get back into a painless, preferably dreamless sleep. The pain did not last long, and the sudden panic from disrupted reality quickly faded into a fast, deep, and darkly encompassing sleep. The sun was already high in the sky when she finally awoke. In a panic again, she dressed quickly and scurried to escape before a messenger would drag her out of bed on some 'important' errand.

She vaulted through her door just in time for a young squire of Cullen's to slam into her. She pointed behind herself and curtly said, "Leave it on my desk," Before the young man could have a chance to stammer any instructions.

Upon reaching Solas's study he began lauding the virtues of their dream walk.

"As if I really want to never know when I'm dreaming or when I'm awake," Habrynn speculated.

He gushed on about how he had never heard of someone able to hold such a vision in place within the fade. She nodded as politely as she could as a quick question turned into an entire afternoon listening to him explain more about his travels in the fade and the wonders that could be found there.

All the while, she was painfully aware of the way their words echoed upwards. "Does he not realize there are no secrets in his study?" Habrynn wondered "The bloody Spymaster roosts above him! Not to mention our Tevinter Mage friend he so loves to deride…" At some point Solas finally noticed her attention wandering, and they said their farewells and she exited out onto the second floor landing to get some air.

It felt like months, and not just a fortnight since she had been allowed any time for reflection. With anxious thoughts of the fade to contemplate, the last thing she wanted was to be dragged into the War room and given the next list of impossible decisions or ridiculous backwoods assignments. Down in the entry plaza she spied a pair of soldiers with sealed papers in hand scanning the upper parapets in that way they usually did before they dragged her to Josephine's desk. Habrynn ducked down and put her back to an outcrop and pretended with all her might that she wasn't the Inquisitor right now.

"Just one day of rest," Her mind screamed, "Just one!"

The murmur of speech finally dissolved into the distance. With a deep sigh of relief she gazed up into the painfully bright clear sky. When she closed her eyes, everything was red and warm even behind her eyelids. It was a comforting color to see as she contemplated the intricacies of the fade, and what little experience she had with it. She often heard the Templars speaking of it in distaining tones. "A place of demons," one might whisper, and another would continue, "The siren song of every lost mage."

Aside from her strange experience in the Temple of Sacred ashes, or the tiny glimpse she saw through each Rift they closed, she had no idea. She had done the best she could since childhood to block out any weirdness that appeared in her dreams. She was no Circle Mage nor an Elven Keeper. Her trainer was her gut and the closest thing to a Templar guard had been her fellow mercenaries. There had been few opportunities over the years to share a drink with a fellow Apostate as the Valo-Kas moved from place to place hunting odd jobs and bounties. Those chance meetings were secretive and seldom, and still tinged with the unease that every race reserved for the Qunari.

One Mage had been more unfortunate, though. The Valo-Kas were given good gold to eliminate a rogue Mage from southern Orlais. He was half an abomination by the time they had tracked him through the wetlands around the Emerald Graves. His face was a jumble of distorted features, and some of his flesh had expanded from his limbs and torn his clothes open with the force of the changes. He was raving about voices from the fade even as he tossed aside rogues and warriors twice his size. Sickening screams of terror and delight erupted from his lips as Habrynn raised a column of flame to consume him. She couldn't look away as he watched her while he cried praise to the merciful spirits who had released him from his earthly pain.

A shiver arched up Habrynn's back and she opened her eyes as a soft clicking approached. She could just make out the two figures she had been avoiding form before heading towards her, still one tower's length away. Loathe to have any more duties pressed on her today, she sized up the distance between her and the stairs angling down below her, and chanced a jump to the mid-level bricks. She caught her weight badly, but her mercenary training at least gave her enough instinct to tumble the rest of the way down the stairs.

The few merchants set up in the stable yards eyed her nervously, but no one said anything when she took off running straight towards the Inquisition's Tavern to lay low as long as she could. As soon as she opened the door and saw The Iron Bull lounging in his usual favorite spot, with one of the serving girls giggling on his knee, the world went red again.

Suddenly she forgot why she had purposely left him behind at the base. She forgot the awkward glances she gave him, and the way she thought of him angrily each time they settled a Noble's squabble or chased down fade-rabid wolves.

Now, as she strode over to the far side of the room, she looked at him and felt the blood rushing through her chest as he had grasped her like a shield, or the way he had thrust himself inside her with barely a hint or warning, or the way he'd stared into her eyes as she could barely stand his attentions, and felt his breath against her neck when he chuckled as she cried out with pleasure.

Back in reality, her hand was clenched around his chest strap. The flash of rage evaporated. She stammered incoherently as the serving girl (a redhead, of course) tip-toed back to the bar. She gulped, and started again, "You. Me. Talking. NOW."

The Iron Bull rolled his eyes towards his Chargers, and then back to her as he flashed her a cat-like smile. "Okay, Boss. Let's go finish that _paperwork_."


	3. Rules and Lessons

**SPOILERS! **This section of the story takes place after Halamshiral, as Skyhold is dealing with a variety of odds-and-ends missions. I've been writing this story under the assumption that you have played the game before. It isn't my desire to transcribe the game's dialogue, so I try to summarize those sections, but in this case, the current chapter is based off a very specific in-game moment.

Some parts of this story depict sexual acts, but I hope in a tastefully vague way. If you're not okay with that, then at least you were forewarned.

**Please review!** This is my first time ever posting to this site. I've written and drawn other stories, but this sort of blindsided me from nowhere. I'm just hoping others enjoy the story as I try to spin it out of my head.

**LASTLY! I do not own Dragon Age or the characters, nor do I receive compensation for this work.**

* * *

Habrynn didn't look at Bull as they ascended Skyhold. They traveled upwards by the most indirect means she could find, eventually winding around the outer parapet and through the second-story of the Grand Hall after they waited for Vivienne to clear her usual perch.

It was with a stomach full of bile that Habrynn finally opened her bedroom door. As soon as she stepped inside, The Iron Bull put a hand to her hip and pressed her into the stairwell with an eager kiss. Their tongues battled and tasted back and forth until she thought she'd fall over weak at the knees. He pushed away and proceeded up the steps, laughing uproariously as her face burned from orange to pink and finally crimson edge to edge.

"You are just a pile of nerves, aren't you, Boss?"

Habrynn cringed at the his nickname for her, and walked up after him, her eyes following him with cat-like focus as he sauntered over to her bed and flopped down like he owned it.

"He might as well," she thought. Habrynn wasn't sure what to expect after she had practically dragged The Iron Bull up to her room. She thought it would be like last time, with a whirlwind of torn clothes and screams and sighs and sweat-soaked sheets. But this time, he seemed so calm. The kiss was hungry, but his gaze and posture were relaxed, like he was playing spy with her again.

"You don't like that name, do you? What's going on, Adaar?"

"I," Habrynn stammered, and found herself just staring at him, suddenly aware of every inch of her own skin prickling, and how her castle suit left so little to the imagination despite how much it covered. "We need to talk. About… about what happened between us." The rest just jumbled out in one breath. Maker protect her, she was never trained for public speaking, let alone the kind of situation she was in now. You couldn't couldn't burn nervousness to the ground, or navigate sexual ambiguity with a precise lightning strike.

"Oh? Sure." Bull replied absently, as if they were discussing troops tactics or whether to double the rations this month. "What's on your mind."

"I… no one has made me feel the way you did," Habrynn said breathlessly, "It was…"

"Amazing? I'm sure." Bull allowed the merest smirk to break his stoney expression. "Found a part of yourself you didn't know was there before? Ben-Hassrath training, remember? Grew up learning to manipulate people. When it's a hostile target, you give them what they want."

He brushed his hand over the covers in a slow arc, and tapped lightly. She approached hesitantly, sitting beside him with the bed corner forming an awkward space between them.

"But when it's someone _you_ care about, you give them what they _need_."

"Care," habrynn heard echoing in her head. She was light as a feather for a moment, suddenly flooded with teenage emotions she hadn't felt in more than decade at the prospects of that word. "Oh… I have needs," Habrynn blurted out, and then her face flushed hotter and redder than even before.

"Outside this room, nothing changes. You're the inquisitor. You're the _Boss_," Bull reiterated. "I will never hurt you without your permission. You will always be safe. If you are ever uncomfortable, if you ever want me to stop, you say 'Katoh' and it's over. No questions asked."

"No questions asked?"

"If you didn't trust me, you would have asked me to leave." Bull Stood slowly, brushing his hand down his left thigh. His pants were already growing taut with slow erection, "But you didn't."

Habrynn stared a moment too long, and finally glanced up at him. "Of course," She thought nervously, "He would notice me eyeing his package."

"I…" Habrynn stammered. "Take me.. before I'm too embarrassed to talk."

"Can do," Bull responded.

Habrynn reached for her collar. Bull slapped her hand away, and she gawked up at him, "Ow, I-" Her words were cut off by a soft shush and Bull's thumb pulling down her lower lip.

"No, we're going to play a different kind of game today." Bull towered over her. With her seated, he filled her world. "Last time was too fast. I'm going to help you enjoy things… longer."

She lifted her hands again to touch his belt, and he slapped a hand away, and clenched the other in his. "No," He put two fingers to her lips, and pressed until she opened her mouth, and slid them inside, cupping her chin with his thumb. "Use this," He crooned. "If you keep being grabby, I'll have to tie you up."

Habrynn clenched her hands anxiously. All she could think about what the miles of fabric between them. His fingers probed her mouth slowly. A soft moan escaped her throat as she closed her eyes. She could hear leather and metal hit the floor, and when she opened her eyes, he was beginning to slide down his pants.

She hadn't had a chance to see much of him the first time around. It was evening, and they had collided so fast she barely recalled much more than the smell of his skin, the rashes up her back from the stonework, and gripping his back with every ounce of strength she had. Now that his manhood was right in front of her, she inhaled, and found herself wanting to bite down on The Iron Bull's fingers.

With a wet pop he retrieved his digits, and chuckled quietly, just a rumble deep into his diaphragm. "See, it's better to build up to things." He bent her head up to meet his eyes, but her gaze continued to dart down to his erection nervously. After a few moments of battling gazes, he snickered, "No. Impossible. You're no virgin. Not even two weeks ago."

"It's just…" Habrynn stammered, "First time, I lit a tent on fire. I couldn't look any of the other mercenaries in the face after that, let alone think… the other times have been so… quick, I honestly have never…" She tried to look to the side, but he pulled her gaze back.

"Honestly," He said more softly, "Never?"

She whispered, "I don't want to do it wrong."

He leaned close, held the top of her ear in his teeth and whispered back, "There's no wrong way, as long as you don't use your teeth… even then. You remember the word?"

She nodded, her fingertips brushing his knees. He leaned back as she leaned forward, and his hand traced her ear and cupped her face. Before she could hesitate he pulled her to him, forcing her lips up to the tip of his member. Her tongue darted over the tip, curling around the edges and felt the boundaries of his crown. He was salty, almost gritty at first. For a moment repulsion and arousal were at odds as strange flavors combined. His grip tightened and he groaned out a heavy breath, pushing her mouth around him smoothly.

She choked with surprise, and grabbed at his knees. He shoved her back onto the bed, and began to undo her jacket as he growled out, "Tut. I said no hands. I did warn you-"

"What?" She chuckled, "You didn't say anything about my jacket-eep!" He popped the last button at her waist and pulled it back around her shoulders, and spun her onto her stomach on the bed.

"No." He purred into her ear as his weight bore down on her. "I said if you couldn't keep your hands still, I'd have to tie you up." He pulled the jacket from her arms, and tied it tightly around her wrists. Each tug strained her arms further, and with each knot his cock rubbed into her back where he straddled her. Her breasts pressed into the covers, rubbing uncomfortably hard nipples against embroidery that never seemed so rough until it was slowly brushing back and forth against tender skin.

With a final tug he finished binding her wrists. Looping his fingers under the jacket, he hoisted her back to her knees. "Now. the lesson isn't over, is it?"

She didn't even have time to respond before he had grabbed her hair and forced her mouth over his member again. He seemed even larger in her mouth now, and it took all her concentration to breathe as he didn't just hold her to him, but thrust slowly from tip to base into her throat.

They continued like this for a while. A few thrusts, a moment for her to breathe, and it began again. As she got her balance he reached down to her breasts to massage them, and then he pinched. Once light, then firm, and soon it was hard enough to make her gasp around his cock. It was like a drumbeat filling her mind. Thrusts, pain, inhaling, release, exhaling, return.

She wasn't sure how long she had been concentrating when he finally pulled away. He whispered something in Qunlat she wasn't familiar with. His tones were like a man at prayer for a moment. He let out a low growl and pushed her back into the bed and unlaced her pants furiously, pulling them back in one yank and tossing them behind him without a care.

Habrynn wriggled for purchase, trying to find a comfortable way to lay as he lowered his face to her sex. She wanted to watch him, see his eyes disappear from view, but her horns pointed back, and they caught on the covers if she didn't stay upright or point her face to the side. Her still bound hands made everything more difficult, and so she ended up in a half twisted rest as Bull cupped his hands to her buttocks, pressing his thumbs into her hips and pulling the skin around her mound tight with his grip.

"Did your previous lovers do this?" Bull breathed against her slit, causing her to shiver.

"What?" She asked, and she cried out as his tongue traced a very specific curve, and twirled for a moment before he backed away again.

"Damnation!" She moaned, "No, they didn't."

Bull chuckled and inhaled her scent before diving into his work again. He nibbled the edges, ran his mouth up and over and clenched his hands into her skin, always varying his motions a little, making each moment a new unique sensation, and always avoiding pressing the most sensitive places for more than an instant.

"Artranten… jun…e" Habrynn whimpered.

"Is that Orlesean?" Bull taunted. He plunged two fingers into her quim as he growled, "You _do_ get around."

She cried out, and he pressed in harder, breathed into her folds and took her closer to the edge and then stopped entirely, just rocking his fingers back and forth with deliberate slowness.

"I am just wondering what sort of life a twenty-something Tal Vashoth has lead that she's barely even been explored before."

"Honestly?" Habrynn panted. The Iron Bull delayed, stroking her inside and out before he finally responded, "Sure."

"A rather unlucky life," She muttered.

"Well," He contemplated a moment, before returning to his task. "We can work on your luck, at least."

"What does that mea-ah-ahn!" Habrynn gasped, and then cried out and cringed in turns as he launched into his intentions with determination this time. There was no pausing, no teasing, just a barrage of nips, exploring fingers, hot breath and his warm tongue flicking mercilessly until she announced her climax between sobbing cries. Her legs quivered, her knees clenched in, but she could hardly move them; Bull's horns held them back.

Before she could quite reach her peak he grunted and pulled back, turning her over and finally letting blood flow back into her arms as he pulled her to the edge of the bed. He plunged himself into her already drenched warmth and growled into her ear as pummeled her. One hand gripped her ass with bruising force and the other clenched into her hair as he thrust and hammered his hips against hers. His grunts and growls grew faster as her own cries and sobs of passion became a single extended exclamation.

Finally, she felt her nerves light up and pleasure shot through her, rolling into a white hot numbness as Bull continued a minute longer, until he too growled out once, twice, and then shook against her, both of them now wet with sweat and pressed to deeply into the bed that she worried she might suffocate.

"Bull," Habrynn coughed.

"Hmm," He grunted, finally pulling himself out of her and rocking back onto his knees to stare at her prone form appreciatively.

Her ass was covered in bruises just starting to bloom where he'd gripped her tightly, and little pink marks around her shoulders and up her neck. He studied her with a satisfied smile on his face until she interrupted again, "Bull. Please. I can't feel my hands…"

"Oh," He chuckled, and untied the jacket from around her wrists, inspecting it as she flexed her sore hands. "Hmm… You can probably salvage these seams…"

She snatched the jacket back and tossed it aside. "I hated that thing anyhow."

"Good," He rumbled, "Because if you keep giving head that good, I'll be tearing your clothes off much more often," He leaned in close and clampe his teeth down at the base of her neck, sucking just hard enough to leave a little semi-circle of red.

"Really! The poor tailors!" She gasped and shoved him away with a squeal of mock displeasure. She glanced at the torn jacket, and blushing, back to him. "You're not lying? It was good? I felt like… god, you make me feel like an amateur. At everything."

He growled low in his throat and butted his forehead up to hers as he closed his eyes. "Let's just say that… it has been a while since I was around a woman with the right… proportions to manage it."

She stared into the wall with a victorious smile as he began to put his clothes back on. "Also," He proposed, "Next time, I'll be a bit more prepared. We shouldn't have to keep destroying your clothes just to keep you in line."

"Good," Habrynn snorted, "It's going to be hard enough finding an excuse for the Quartermaster to make me some new clothes _again._"

"Speaking of which," He laughed, "I wonder what you're planning to leave here in?"

"What do you mean-" Realization dawned on Habrynn's face, and she looked at the trampled pants, and the abused coat, and blushed vividly again. "I... I don't even have my old merc clothes up here! You wouldn't-BULL! Come BACK!"

But he had already shut the door, and she was left naked and wondering how best to secure less disheveled clothing as his laughter faded away into the Grand Hall.

"Andraste's flaming tits," Habrynn swore under her breath.


	4. An Unwelcome Past

**SPOILERS! **This section of the story takes place after Halamshiral, as Skyhold is dealing with a variety of odds-and-ends missions. I've been writing this story under the assumption that you have played the game before.

Some parts of this story depict sexual acts, but I hope in a tastefully vague way. (This particular chapter is mostly clean, with discussions of the implications of sex) If you're not okay with that, then at least you were forewarned.

**Please review!** This is my first time ever posting to this site. I've written and drawn other stories, but this sort of blindsided me from nowhere. I'm just hoping others enjoy the story as I try to spin it out of my head.

**LASTLY! I do not own Dragon Age or the characters, nor do I receive compensation for this work.**

* * *

Habrynn slowly walked over the eastern parapet of Skyhold. Her left hand was idly tracing each outcrop. First, passing over the top, scraping along uneven wind-worn bricks, and then floating as she reached a gap, before slapping against the side of the next projection, and then lagging behind the rest of her body a moment before tracing over the top of the next.

Concern churned in her mind as she walked, but it felt far away as she concentrated on her outing. The rhythmic slap of her hand on stone and the soft percussion of her slippers against the pebble ridden paving stones was soothing as she tried to sort through the usual mental stew of unease, guilt, and nagging worry.

The air was still and windless, and as she sniffed the air, she noticed a strange nothingness about her. No pollen or waft of cooking smoke or the hard oxide stench from the forges. Before she could make sense of the absence, a soft droning began to overcome her surroundings. It forced her body to pause, while her hand continued to feel over the stonework in a habitual way. An uneasy realization crept into her soul now. The stone was neither cold or warm to the touch. A tactile memory stirred within her. She audibly sighed, and her voice echoed around her as if she was in a narrow hallway.

"Again?" She huffed. "Maker spit on this fade-touched hand…"

She pulled away from the lifeless dream-stonework, and looked at the mark, where it appeared like a strange gap of air inside her hand, instead of the shattered green glow it took on in the real world.

"How can we?" a male voice echoed from further along the parapet. Habrynn could barely make out two figures at the distant end of the walkway, and even from where she stood she could see their horns.

"Qunari?" Habrynn hissed in confusion as she jogged forward to get a better look. The battlements stretched out ahead of her as she ran. She sped her pace, but the distance between her and her targets closed infinitely slower.

The man had his arms to the woman's sides, looking down below her chest. Her eyes closed and the woman raised her hands to the sides of his head and pleaded, "I know, it's not my place. It's not your place to know the child…" The woman tenderly placed a kiss on the man's forehead, and the soft Qun Tammassran scarves draped over her shoulders brushed over his rough working tunic. "You owe me nothing," She whispered.

The skies became dark and rumbled with far off thunder a moment, before enormous scenes began to play out like projections on glass. Habrynn could see the woman's features more clearly now. She was like a burning pine, with dark green eyes and dusky gray-brown skin. Her curls were flame red and fell down her back in fluffy lumps. "Mother," Habrynn whispered.

Her mother was tending to holy ceremonies. She picked up babes just born, and wrapped them in the color of the duty they were expected to fill. Her hands worried over copied manuscripts under the light of a single candle at night. The man concentrated on a lathe in a sunlit workshop, where other Quanari men like him worked at other small tasks, shaping wood, fitting pieces to repair furnishings or replacing damaged weapon hilts. She traveled down rigid geometric streets as other Qunari passed in all directions on their given task. He looked up at the sky calmly as he considered the next line to draw on a schematic spread out across several angled surfaces. The next moment, she was in a quiet cloister with other women with the same robes as her, carefully reading from the same scriptures as they knelt in organized rows. A flash of blue, and Habrynn's mother was standing before the same meek looking artisan, as a third Qunari introduced them to each other.

Neither one of the figures on the parapet looked to her, even as she raced nearer. They were fixed on each other, even though their eyes didn't meet. She could see the man now, a hair shorter than her mother, but stocky and simple, with golden skin, pale wispy hair and eyes a sky blue. "Father," Habrynn breathed. "No, this is too weird," She sputtered, digging her heels into the ground as she turned and back away. "I don't really want to see this-"

The images shifted around Habrynn, and then her mother was kneeling at a low table while other Tamassran women huddled around her. "It should not take so long," One hissed. "You have relieved men before. Surely you know how-"

"It will simply take longer," Her mother said. "Or you can chose a different Sire."

"No," An older, graying Tamassran Qunari snapped. "The Arishok require this. They have been very specific."

The golden-haired Quanari sat, in a different room, receiving a similar chastising. Though separated by space, Habrynn heard them both agree, "As you command. We will meet as long as it takes-"

Habrynn spun in place to see that the parapets had fallen away. Somehow she was standing on one of the towers overlooking her young parents again from a higher angle. The Qun clothing they had been wearing before had dissolved away, to be replaced with haphazard scraps of different types of clothing that looked more like what Habrynn grew up with. Scarves with the patterns of ethnicities they had no right to claim. No gems or jewels or status symbols, and garments that were always torn, dirty, and ill fitting. Second-hand charity from the Chantry or altered cast-offs from the Nobles they had served.

Her mother was not bulging, but the pregnancy was obvious enough now. Her mother's eyes were red and bloodshot and tears dampened her entire face. Her father's face she couldn't see well, but she could see his shoulders heave in sobs of his own.

"Saarebas… " He wept. "How can you be sure?"

Her mother glanced up and over his shoulder, and her dark green eyes met Habrynn's as if she could see her across time through the fade. "Adarr," She whispered. And in Qun, she finished with, "They did this."

Habrynn gasped, choking for breath as the ground of her room slammed into her side. The covers were scattered everywhere, and she could see a few new tears in the sheets where her horns had torn them in her thrashing.

_They made our child a weapon._

She thought the words were in her mind, but they repeated again, from above her.

"They made my child a weapon," Cole stated calmly, while he rolled a figurine from her miniature war-table in his hands. "Disparate parts, brought together for the chance at a unique outcome. Warm and maternal but then cold and severed. Longing, grasping, denying… affirming."

Habrynn bit her tongue before she shouted something unfair to Cole. His intrusion hurt her, but she knew his circumstances. He couldn't help it. And he strove to help others even if invariably, he hurt them first.

Startled by her glowering expression, Cole dropped the figure from the second-story railing he was perched on. "I… no, no-no-no I didn't mean to upset you more! Only to reveal… only to help!"

He must have jumped down, but as often happened with Cole, she saw him one instant on the railing, and then the next, he alighted on the floor next to her, and was kneeling down to touch her shoulder. If it was anyone else, such a gesture while she was almost naked would have been weird, to say the least.

"Cole," She said more sternly than she intended. "Did you drag my dream into the fade? Did you show me my parents? What were you think-"

"No, I only followed you," Cole soothed. "You sought a connection. Love... confuses you. Your emotions… confuse you."

"I… I did what?" Habrynn sputtered at Cole.

"You do not seek love. Do not… think you _want_ love. Don't … _deserve_ love, maybe."

"Cole!" Habrynn snapped.

"Right," He jolted away from the woodgrain he was tracing on the ground, and stared at her fixedly. "You left your parents. You thought the fires were your fault. Thought you endangered them. Thought they were helpless. Farm-hands. Simple life. Younger brother has a swing, but no one to push him. Father draws plans for a larger cottage, but the family does not grow..."

Habrynn blinked back at him as the pieces slowly connected together.

"Saar Ay baas," Cole intoned.

"The Dangerous ones," Habrynn muttered. Her mother was perhaps a dormant mage. Her father, a carrier perhaps? Habrynn thought over what little she knew about the Qun, and remembered Iron Bull's callous comment about the Qun's breeding programs seeking to enhance dominant or recessive traits. She was just a product of their tightly written ledgers. _A carefully crafted weapon_.

"Yes," Was all Cole said, while staring into her eyes at a slant. As best Habrynn could guess, he had heard her own mental deductions clear as day, and did not feel the need to repeat them this time. Iron Bull's soft chuckle echoed through her mind again, "_Adaar. I like it. 'Weapon'. It has a nice ring to it_."

Habrynn ground her teeth together. Even knowing what he had given up and how he had changed or at least chosen his sides now, she had the sudden urge to punch him right in his smug face. Of course, she also instantly realized how futile that would be. He'd probably catch the punch, swing her around so she didn't hurt herself… if she was anyone but the 'Boss' he'd just strike her to teach her to punch better next time, like how he trained Krem.

"A kiss in a quiet shadow," Cole pondered aloud, "The smell of grass crushed under foot, and cold, welcoming tile stones. You were nervous, but he was gentle-"

"COLE!" Habrynn shouted. "OUT. Of. My. Head!"

"They loved you… your parents… _still_… love you," Cole stammered. "You told the Valo-Kos you were alive… but not your parents. They worry you are dead. The child they left the Qun to save."

Habrynn blinked back at Cole, suddenly filled with shame. "I… I was protecting them. I burned... I had to leave! I didn't know what I _know _now…"

"No… this is sideways. I replaced one hurt for another. I made it all worse. Let me fix it-"

Habrynn slapped his hand away as he reached for her, and pointed at him. "No," She snapped. "You promised me that you wouldn't make me forget. Not _ever_."

Cole only nodded, stood, and walked down the stairs in that strange silence that his steps often left. Soundless, despite his shoes, like the absent wind in her fade dream.

"Protecting them. I'm protecting everyone." Habrynn growled, gripping the horns at the sides of her head and yanking her head backwards to scowl at the ceiling. Not that she could see it. Her eyes were swelling with tears, and everything was a blur of hot rage.

_Habrynn… Mother told me Brynn was fire, and Ha was home… home fire, hearthfire, the warmth that kept a family alive._

"STUPID," habrynn growled. She threw her head back and thumped it against the bed. Her backwards horns pierced the mattress unintentionally, and she glanced at the holes and spat again, "STUPID."


	5. Demands and Inquiries

**SPOILERS! **This section of the story takes place after Halamshiral, as the War council deals with an average day's politics and the lead up to the Siege of Adamant. I've been writing this story under the assumption that you have played the game before.

Some parts of this story depict sexual acts, but I hope in a tastefully vague way. (This particular chapter is totally clean, but others are distinctly smutty) If you're not okay with that, then at least you were forewarned.

**Please review!** This is my first time ever posting to this site. I've written and drawn other stories, but this sort of blindsided me from nowhere. I'm just hoping others enjoy the story as I try to spin it out of my head.

**LASTLY! I do not own Dragon Age or the characters, nor do I receive compensation for this work.**

* * *

The Valo-Kas had been incredibly demanding. Shokrakar wanted his missing mercenaries returned. Shokrakar wanted to get paid (though the Inquisition weren't the ones who had hired him). Shokrakar wanted her to employ them. Shokrakar wanted help getting Orlesian nobles off his back. Shokrakar wanted to gold plate the Company's armor and hire dance instructors. The first four had come over the first few months of the Inquisition's founding. She understood her old Commander wanting answers to the events at the Conclave, but his continual requests left her fingers digging grooves into the War table. She was already leading the Inquisition. What would it take to make Shokrakar remember that she wasn't their leader, despite her publicity?

"That last one is in Sera's handwriting," Lelliana smirked. Habrynn threw a cold glare over to her, but reminded herself to buy Sera a round the next time she saw her. The fiesty little archer had become the bright spot in her missions. Never doom and gloom, never chastising her choices as long as she thought they were "fun" or "Helped the little guys".

Another rough month passed by dealing with all the trouble in Crestwood. Iron Bull had cut through the undead waves with no more than a grumble of annoyance, and barely batted an eye each time they were beset by yet-another group of local opportunistic bandits taking advantage of rain-soaked roads. His Ben-Hassrath training was flawless when it came to ambushes. Containing the situation at Crestwood had been one sneak attack after another.

"You still haven't decided what to do about the Mayor," Josephine piped up, as if she could see a reflection of that dark region in her expression. "The people of Crestwood are clamoring for justice!"

Habrynn looked down at the map, and the tiny winged figurine with a red chip beneath it that marked the expected location where Cullen's troops were intercepting the Red Templars. She sighed, "Lelliana?"

The Spymaster pondered, "My agents heard whispers of a cabin in the hills just after his disappearance, and the town and the entire region despises him now. I say, post a reasonable bounty, and let his own people bring him to your doorstep, and fill their bellies at the same time."

"That sounds good. Do that," Habrynn absently replied. A part of Habrynn agreed with what the Mayor had done. He had faced a terrible one-sided choice. Let everyone die by Darkspawn hands, or allow half of them to drown. But her logical conviction faltered at the memory of scratches dug into cave walls, and the skeletons of children wrapped in seaweed encrusted blankets. Even perpetually sarcastic Sera had been at a loss for words in the damp caverns, and Dorian had said what sounded remarkably similar to the Chantry's prayer for peace in Tevene.

Despite the hardships to stabilize the area, they had taken the dam, secured the Keep, and done everything they could except slay the High Dragon that now circled hungrily over the forests. And in the end, they had met with Alistair and Hawke, and were bound for the Abyssal Plains to try and stop an atrocity of the Wardens own making.

"Maker preserve us," Habrynn growled under her breath. "Does Corypheus never sleep..." She sighed, and flicked a hand towards the other side of the table. "I need you to track down some Tal-Vashoth."

Lelliana blinked, "The Valo-Kas? We already have-"

"No," Habrynn replied, "Ella and Gerimonde Vertrande." The war council shifted their feet as confusion passed between them. Only Morrigan seemed unphased by the request. Habrynn continued, "...my parents."

"Vertrande?" Cullen scrunched his nose up at her, "But that's an Orlesian name-"

Morrigan chuckled and finally looked up for the section of the map she was studying. "Why, Cullen, you must be thinking our horned savior is from the _Qun_. You _do_ understand what Tal-Vashoth _means_?"

Cullen stammered, "I didn't mean, I just-"

"Adaar is a fake," Habrynn snapped, and then caught herself stammering as she realized how the words came out. "The name… Adaar. Shokrakar is as bad as The Iron Bull. He'll stick you with a nickname at first site, and he'll never call you anything else."

Lelliana smirked, "At least he did not name you _Ashaad Three_."

Habrynn cracked a thin smile. It wouldn't due to tell them the whole truth of the matter, but they did not seem to ask any more about the strange combination of names. She had penned a quick note to her family to tell them she was not only alive, but thriving. She also included a small purse of gold and made a note to herself to apologize to Cole for her bad mood. Perhaps he _had _helped, in his way.

"There is another matter, " Josephine began in her slow canter that usual meant "awkward public service on the horizon."

"What's that?" Habrynn replied.

"There is... an accusation by one Lord Rosmont Évreaux," Josephine frowned, "He claims that you are responsible for some grievous injury to his person, but will not specify. He is demanding that you answer publicly."

Habrynn's eyes grew wide for a moment, before she could reply, Cullen was growling out a command for her. "Really? Do we answer every Lord who claims the Herald stepped on his toes while dancing? I say burn the summons and think no more of it."

"Well?" Josephine looked to her with her pen hovering in anticipation.

Lellianna eyed them all warily, and ventured, "We could investigate this Lord, but it would delay setting the trap for the Mayor-"

"Don't-" Habrynn snapped. "Lord Évreaux received my answer a long time ago. I don't owe him anything."

Was that... a smile on Josephine's face? Habrynn had the distinct feeling she'd given the Antivan socialite a juicier piece of gossip than intended. Lellianna and Cullen glanced to each other, before Cullen broke the silence. "There is," He paused, considering the words, "Another facet to this problem."

Lellianna continued, "The last word from Shokrakar says that his mercenaries did no return from their last scouting mission. The estate of the Noble who hired them is a known ally of Évreaux. Coincidence?"

Morigan snorted, "There are no coincidences." She eyed Habrynn with a knowing concern that made her shiver.

"Deploy one of our smaller companies," Habrynn commanded. "My own feelings aside, the Valo-Kas are useful. We shouldn't let their disappearance go without investigating."

"Perhaps Sutherland's company?" Cullen suggested. "They are on their way back from aiding the dwarves on the Western range. It would be a day or two out of their way." Habrynn nodded her agreement.

As they exited the war room a few hours later, she handed a second sealed note to Lelliana. The Spymaster glanced at her peculiarly, but took the envelope gently. "This one is just your mother-"

"Yes," Habrynn said softly. "Deliver it only to her. I know I can't stop you, but please don't pry…"

Lellianna only nodded before sauntering back to her roost in the highest tower. Habrynn tapped her foot anxiously, and bit her lip.

"Mother," the note read, "Please forgive me, and let me know if my little brother has turned out as I have. I pray he leads a more peaceful life than mine. If he is a Mage, and it is not too late, send him to me, and I will do everything in my power to help."


	6. The Fallout of Adamant

**SPOILERS! **This section of the story takes place after "Here Lies the Abyss." This chapter deals with her unease at returning to normal after what she saw and did in the name of combating the Blight. I've been writing this story under the assumption that you have played the game before. It isn't my desire to transcribe the game's dialogue, so I try to summarize those sections. Most of the remainder of this story diverges from the original plot to deal with the original events unfolding around Habrynn, but makes reference to many of the Inner Circle quest lines.

Some parts of this story depict sexual acts, but I hope in a tastefully vague way. If you're not okay with that, then at least you were forewarned.

**Please review!** This is my first time ever posting to this site. I've written and drawn other stories, but this sort of blindsided me from nowhere. I'm just hoping others enjoy the story as I try to spin it out of my head.

**LASTLY! I do not own Dragon Age or the characters, nor do I receive compensation for this work.**

* * *

The events that took place at Fort Adamant wore on Habrynn far more than she let anyone see. Her skin crawled just thinking of the fateful day they had finally sieged the Warden's stronghold. Everything felt different fighting for their lives against Corypheus's dragon and then the spirit of Nightmares itself. The blood of countless Wardens and demons coated her skin before the night was over. In her dreams, she heard echoes of the Archdemon's roar and saw Clarel die again and again as helpless Wardens were twisted and torn from their humanity to birth monsters.

Alistair had died by her command, and though she had made the choice for all the wrong reasons, his death rallied the Wardens to join the Inquisition's ranks. She could hardly look Varric and Hawke in the eyes afterwards. Hawke and Alistair had not given her time to weigh the merits, and in that moment she had chosen Alistair simple because she couldn't bear to see Varric hurt by the loss of yet another friend. But as she bore the news of Alistair's sacrifice to him, his tone made it entirely clear that there was no right decision. The pain and darkness inflicted that day seemed to ripple out to every corner of Skyhold. No one was left unaffected.

Solas made a vocal show of avoiding her company as the the Wardens trickled into Skyhold's ranks. The rest of the Inquisition seemed willing to forget their disdain for the Warden's choices and cheer on a surge of comrades-in-arms. Some, like Blackwall and Sera, even thanked her for saving any of the ancient order's numbers.

The toll of the siege continued to pile up even after the last sword had been sheathed. Reports of stray demons in Western Orlais continued to arrive. There was also the sheer number of Inquisition troops injured or dead that she had to account for, send condolences, and burn. Her nose and eyes still itched from a week of funerary pires fires on the Western Approach. Between the blood, ectoplasm and ash, she had finally given up rescuing the gear she had gone there in. But as she was about to throw it off Skyhold's Tower, she was tackled by Dagna, who ran off with the encrusted garment to a gleeful cry of 'research'. Though it perplexed Habrynn at the time, Dagna later presented her with a new set of runes in her typically resourceful but eccentric manner.

"And the fade," Habrynn thought, and her hands clenched as flashes of green flicked over her thoughts. Her muscles were screaming for something to hit, to let loose and break everything around her. She did not know what the others has seen, but she knew exactly what shape her nightmare took on. It wasn't spiders, or dragons or any kind of fanged creatures. It was bodies. The energy of the Fade grabbed her as they navigated the The Nightmare's realm. She saw her friends struck down as their blood and entrails struck her with staggering force. If Bull, Cole and Vivienne had not been with her… it did not help to wonder. She pinched her leg hard, savoring the pain and discomfort. The Fade did not hurt, so long as you were not their physically again, as she had been. Pain meant the Fade wasn't holding her.

Her waking nightmares had been stalled by mundane concerns as they dealt with the dead or urged their horses back to the safety of Inquisition territory, but now that she was back amongst relative stillness, her mind reeled. There was too much time on her hands as the war council investigated the Arbor Wilds looking for a clue of what Corypheus sought there. The quiet of everyday life became filled by thoughts, and her thoughts were full of things she didn't want to remember.

She had gone to Sera first. Good, silly, positive Sera. Habrynn had helped her out in Verchiel by make a grand display of troops to throw off a few posturing Nobles. When their reward turned into an assassination attempt on Sera, Habrynn had watched the woman pound the Noble into red mud with barely a blink of an eye. Though the brutallity in that moment had shocked her, Habrynn could get behind that kind of justice; it was almost elegant. You just gave some slimey schemer what was coming to him, and hopefully saved more people like Sera's contact from getting used for target practice in the future.

However, when Habrynn sat down in Sera's brightly colored pile of pillows hoping for sympathy, it was immediately apparent that Sera would talk about ANYTHING but their experience together in the Fade. When she tried to pry out any idea of how Sera felt, the elf would stammer, shut down, or change the subject. Eventually she just kept asking Habrynn if she wanted to get a beer or go pull pranks on the Commander. When Habrynn declined, Sera gave her a playful raspberry and hopped down to the ground floor from the landing.

From the railing, Hbarynn could see Cole idling in his usual corner of the loft. He seemed quiet and reserved, even for him. The whole while they were in the Fade, she could see the panic behind his eyes being barely subdued. The energy that normally sang around him had been a cacaphony in the Nightmare's realm, lashing out and cringing into itself in waves. When she waved to him, his eyes met hers and then he uncharacteristically disappeared as she approached. She figured he was off to fill the uneasy void by fixing someone else's sorrow. "I wish I could disappear," Habrynn muttered to the air Cole had left.

Now she sat in the last remaining unrepaired tower in Skyhold, waiting for The Iron Bull to return to his room for the night. There was a tightness in her chest that wouldn't let her go near the Main Hall. The clenched feeling wouldn't let her go near the War Table either. It didn't want to consider any responsibility, nor sit on a throne to judge or sleep in an elegant bed for a person called _The Inquisitor_. The Iron Bull might like his own 'The', but Habrynn's title left a foul taste in her mouth.

The door slammed open and The Iron Bull stumbled in, catching one horn against the doorframe and cursing something foul in Qunlat.

"The Door can… sodomize itself? Did I catch that right?" Habrynn hicupped, chuckling despite herself.

"Maraas, Boss, why are you-" He stammered, and then stood up straight as she wiped her reddened eyes again.

She chuckled darkly, "Ha ha… got you now." She stood and sauntered towards him, shutting the door and putting her back against it as she watched him. "You're not the only one who can be all creepy and wait in the dark for someone to return to their room."

Bull wobbled just a little, and smirked, "'Creepy'? I'm offended."

She pinched her fingers together and sniffed. "Just a little. Honestly, I almost left. I was imagining you walking in with some red-head in your arms and I-"

"Don't," Bull commanded, thumping his palm onto the door next to her head. "There's no one else but you," He said as his other hand popped the strap that held her staff. Neither one of them looked away as it clanged on the floor. She'd barely taken it off since Adamant. Even within Skyhold, she didn't feel safe.

"I just… I don't know," She whispered. "I wanted to… to talk about-"

He unclipped her cloak and tugged it aside, tossing it without even looking to see where it landed. "Shhh."

She angrily tugged at the straps holding his arm guard on, and enunciated her words with clangs as the metal plates hit the floor. "Look. We just faced demons," She snapped, and tugged the wrist guard off, "And darkspawn," and flicked the toggles of his greatsword holster, "and some kind of Fade shit, and-"

Bull shoved her shoulders back, and tugged her coat off in one pass, kneeling down on the ground to put his teeth into her belt buckle. Her hand shivered as it reached up to grasp his horn to steady herself. With the other hand she shoved his greatsword from his back, and it fell to the floor with a loud thud. "Bull, really, please-eee-a-" She cried out as he dragged her pants to the ground with just his mouth. His hot breath drove his to distraction as it traced down the inside of her thighs.

He put his hands to her knees and lifted her enough to topple her onto his shoulder, before spinning and letting momentum carry her onto the bed, with his own weight a moment behind. Their combined impact made the old wood crack beneath them, and knocked the breath from her. She tried for a moment to sit up, before dropping her head back to the motley covers and sighing.

"I don't want to talk," Bull rumbled, "But I did like how you said, 'Please'. Now," He crooned, grinding his already enlarging manhood against her. "No names inside this room. No Inquisition. No Wardens, no Circle. Nothing. That's what I promised you."

She whimpered as he slowly ground against her naked skin with his pants still on. "Please," she gasped.

"Please what?" He purred, reaching to pull down his pants.

"Please just take me already," She whispered before pulling his head down to meet hers in a ravenous kiss.

He entered her as the kiss grew more competitive, turning their heads side to side, nipping at each other's lips, tongues wrestling. She moaned into his mouth as his length filled her, strained her muscles at first. Usually Bull would tease her, bind her, or at least take in the sight of her. Sometimes he was more gentle and commanding, wanting her to play with herself in front of him or press her to a wall to hear her squeal as the cold stone pressed into her nipples. Other times he was almost violent, gripping her hard enough to bruise, or grasping her by hair or pinning her into a table or against a wall. And the biting-she loved the bites he would leave all over her body, but sometimes the old ones weren't faded before he was leaving dozens of new trails and hickies on her body.

But tonight was fast and raw and almost silent. They had barely been able to touch for weeks, and when they had seen each other, it was amidst horror, gore, suffering and exhaustion.

They ground into each other, their needy groans and the creak of the broken bed frame speeding in pace until Habrynn clenched his shoulders hard with her nails and sobbed into his ear, "Please, Bull." He responded with a growl, and grabbed her hands and pinned them over her head with one hand, and reached down to press into her clit as he thrust into her even faster.

Her breath caught in a shrill cry, and then she squealed with painful delight as he sent her on a crash course towards her climax. They both stared into each other's eyes, hungry but wordless as they both rocketted towards satisfaction without the meandering pace Bull usually imposed. She wanted to look away, but his gaze was powerful. The way he concentrated directly on her, even as his mouth twitched with urgency as she lifted her hips into his movements, was bliss.

It was a short-lived bliss, and her eyes shut tight as she arched her back into her climax as it lit up around her unexpectedly. For an instant her vision was white hot, and all she could think about was the lewd sound of Bull's voice hissing, "Yes," and her own voice extending in a long shrill cry. Bull sped for a moment, and then trembled against her before he paused, gazing down at her as he panted wearily.

The faint smell of smoke arose, and then a hushed crackle like dry leaves.

Habrynn's eyes shot open. "Bull, please let me go."

"Hmm?" Bull replied groggily, his drunkenness showing again now that his loins were appeased.

She sniffed, and then felt the Fade around them. "Bull let me go the room is on fire."

He looked around slowly, finally lifting his hand from her wrists to take in the room. Enough smoke was billowing up now that it was starting to get in their eyes. Around them in a rough circle, fire was starting to eat the edges of the bedframe and various bits of fabric.

Habrynn sat up without even feeling pain for a moment. Blind adrenaline fueled her response, and she reached out The Mark and swallowed the energy around her whole. It was the first thing she could think to do, and she immediately regretted it. Her hand flashed with fire for a moment, and the Mark flashed out and then subsided. But inside her bones, the fire felt like it was still burning.

Bull slowly gazed between her and the minute traces of char at the edges of his bed, "Hmm... that good?" He was cut off by a pillow being thrown at his head, and then the sound of Habrynn bursting into tears. In an uncharacteristic way, he stomped out what little smoke remained on the bed and then pulled her to him, wrapping the covers around them.

"Calm down," He whispered into her ear as she continued to sob against his chest. "You're not the first mage to light something on fire, you won't be the last..."

He continued to hold her as the fearful tears drained away, eventually resting his chin on her head as she listening to his chest rise and fall. Every now and again, she could hear his laughter through his ribs as it jostled her.

For Bull, it was little more than a funny new story to tell of his conquests, but worry over what she might have done and the throbbing in her hand kept her awake the rest of the night.


	7. On the Qun and Relationships

**SPOILERS! **This section of the story takes place after "Here Lies the Abyss." This chapter deals with life becoming semi-normal again, and a Habrynn learning about a certain Qun ritual. I've been writing this story under the assumption that you have played the game before. It isn't my desire to transcribe the game's dialogue, so I try to summarize those sections. Most of the remainder of this story diverges from the original plot to deal with the original events unfolding around Habrynn, but makes reference to many of the Inner Circle quest lines.

Some parts of this story depict sexual acts, but I hope in a tastefully vague way (this chapter is clean aside from a few offhand references to their sex life). If you're not okay with that, then at least you were forewarned.

**Please review!** This is my first time ever posting to this site. I've written and drawn other stories, but this sort of blindsided me from nowhere. I'm just hoping others enjoy the story as I try to spin it out of my head.

**LASTLY! I do not own Dragon Age or the characters, nor do I receive compensation for this work.**

* * *

The weeks wore on with the cold weight of inevitability. A month before, Morrigan had explained the nature of the Eluvians to her and the dilemma facing all of them, but their scouts were no closer to finding a safe route to the Elven ruins they knew Corypheus searched for. Where once she was whisked off here and there to tackle mundane Noble chores or kill undead menacing villagers, she now found herself with too much idle time on her hands, practically prying each minor assignment from Cullen's hands.

There wasn't a day now that she didn't see The Iron Bull. At first their formal arrangement of foreplay, lessons, ecstasy and separation continued, but at some point he stopped leaving after she had fallen into an orgasm-induced coma, and instead she had the new problem of her covers being no where near large enough for an average sized Qunari _and_ an exceptional specimen like The Iron Bull trying to share them. The quartermaster didn't notice or didn't ask when several choice bear hides went missing. After just one afternoon of sewing, Habrynn had a much warmer, larger and more durable bedspread than before, and the occupants of Skyhold hardly bat an eye.

When she wasn't filling out paperwork, she was in the Herald's Rest carousing with Sera, Bull and the Chargers, trying to forget the spectral pains or quiet the voices in her head by listening to other people's stories. When it wasn't drinking or bureaucracy, The Iron Bull was also the first one she called on to join her in the field. She felt as safe with him in her bed as she in battle. Their growing bond made her poor concentration easier to manage. The team would follow the swing of his sword or axe as readily as they would lean into her commands. Standing behind him while he turned their enemies into a red paste was the best spot to be to direct her pyrotechnics toward their soon-to-be charcoal enemies. If their other comrades noticed their growing involvement, they said nothing. Whether it was the gleam in her eye when flames danced around them that gave them pause, or Bull's impeccably neutral demeanor anywhere outside her quarters, she couldn't be sure.

But even Bull's ferocious nightly company only kept so much at bay. Some days it felt like walls of ice loomed over her in place of stone and mortar. She imagined herself back in the long walk from Haven, freezing from exposure and burning up with unstable rift energy in turns. The marked hand would ache and burn sympathetically when the flashbacks arose, sometimes crackling loud enough that it drew the attention of those around her. She had taken to wearing gloves even within the Hold's walls, to keep it out of sight and out of mind.

The strange chills did not leave her at night, either. She awoke shivering even when she shared a bed with The Iron Bull. Now she was the one leaving stealthily in the middle of the night, preferring to try and rub the warmth back into her arms and contemplate the Inquisition's situation from the causeways. The night guards always saluted, but sometimes they cautiously watched her as she walked past. No one ever commented on her odd hours, but she could feel their gaze.

Sleepless nights brought other consequences. More than once she awoke in strange places, forgetting how she got there, or on the ground after she had fallen from her chair when she should have been reading through field reports or researching some arcane tome that Vivienne or Dorian pressed on her.

Eventually, she tried to bridge the cold gap that had formed between her and Solas since Adamant. He was the most knowledgeable at Skyhold, and perhaps all Thedas in the ways of the Fade. She felt certain that the root of her troubles lay beyond the Veil. It was soon apparent that not only was Solas's hostility forgotten, the elven mage was brimming with new questions for her once she finally approached him.

"What was it like?" He asked, exclaiming, "None have completed such a feat since the age of Tevinter! Perhaps not even since Arlathan! Oh! To have seen it!" But as he pressed for specifics in between her attempts to get answers of her own. It seemed that Vivienne had written a full report on their journey and eventual escape from The Nightmare. As she understood it, Vivienne had already sent it on to the Kirkwall press guild to have it run and bond as a Circle publication.

Solas continued to press for specifics. The way it smelled, or for her to recount how gravity had warped around them when they first fell in. The more he pried facts and memories from her, the harder it became to breathe. He seemed to guess that something was amiss. His suspicious glance sent her over the edge of panic, and she strode out with a shouted, 'ExcusemeIhavetogonow!" and dashed out of his study into the open air, panting like she had sprinted a mile as she collapsed against the parapets.

In the end, it was Cassandra's prescense that she found the most comforting. She would sit and watch the Seeker at training, letting the silence go undisturbed except for the ring of her sword hitting the training dummies spare armor, or the occasional crack of distressed wood as Cassandra unseated one from the ground entirely.

"I wonder if Vivienne knows a spell to turn your foes to wood? The way you go through those, imagine how fast you'd go through the enemy lines?" Habrynn chuckled. A large toothy yawn caught her by surprise, and despite her best intentions she felt herself drifting into a nap as she settled into a Haystack nearby.

Casandra flashed her a smirk, and then returned to her rigid exercise routine on the next dummy over. "Perhaps _you _need the exercise. I have seen the way you have been moping around the castle."

"Moping?" Habryn huffed, "Why, I must have heard you wrong. Surely, you mean limping. That's The Iron Bull's doing, I'll have you know. Training. I mean. With… sticks."

Casandra scoffed, "Really?" And lopped the head off her target in a single ferrocious swing, sending a helmet clinking across the ground. "When do you practice? I have not seen you in the sparring ring. Do you even have armor? You are such an odd size, I would assume-"

"STICKS!" Habrynn snapped self-consciously. "Me? In armor? I'd electrocute myself with my own casting! Or broil, like a roast nug in my own gear…."

They both shared a distasteful face at the mental picture. Cassandra worried over the notched in her sword longer than usual as she replied to Habrynn, "I know you think.. you all think I do not care. That I am harsh, and do not consider other's troubles. You must think I'm too preoccupied with my own problems... "

"You did what you could for the Seekers," Habrynn soothed. They had bonded over the past month through some of the worst personal strife. Few people had to see the order they helped to champion stripped down so quickly from the inside. The wound left by Seeker Lucius's betrayal was still fresh and obvious in Cassandra's every action, but she never anticipated how Cassandra would cling to those tragedies, and instead of letting them sour her, Cassandra used them like the counterweight of a compass, directing herself to more virtuous decisions.

Habrynn barely knew Cassandra's apprentice, but she still saw Daniel's veined visage in her waking nightmares sometimes. Casandra surely did too, even if she rarely spoke of him. The way Lucius had spoken so innocently of the destruction of the order made her burn up inside. She could still remember that matter-of fact tone he used as he described the countless murders he'd perpetrated, like torturing people to death was no more criminal than slaughtering cattle.

"Do you smell something burning?" Casandra sniffed.

Habrynn hadn't noticed at first, but now she smacked her hands together fervently, where her gloves had ignited on their own. She tossed the charred remains to the ground and finished stamping them out in a frenzy.

Casandra continued to gawp at her, and stammered out, "What was _that _about?!"

"Nothing!" Habrynn shouted even as she bolted upright and ran straight into the Tavern. "A drink," She thought. "That's all I need. Something to calm me down, something to.."

Habrynn stared over at Iron Bull lounging in his usual seat, and downed the first mug of ale that the Innkeep put in front of her. How was it that they could spend almost every night together, and she could still be fixated on him anytime their eyes met? It was all she could do to control herself when they went on missions together. That metallic scent when he got worked up, like rock salt hitting a hot forge. The way you could feel the power of his muscles in his sword swings.

The bartender placed a second mug down before she could ask, and she carried it with her as she strode over to Bull. "So," she took a big chug of the ale for courage. "Tell me… um… what does the Qun teach about... Love?"

The Iron Bull raised an eyebrow at her, and shrugged. "We have good friends and the kind of comrades you can trust your life to, just like you Fereldans."

"I'm not Fereldan," She smirked.

The Iron Bull glanced at her mug and ordered one for himself, twice as large, before answering, "Right. You were Commander of the Valo-Kas, right? They were all Tal-Vashoth, right?"

Habrynn shook her head, not sure why this was suddenly such a fun game. "I have horns on my head, so I must have been the one in charge?"

The Iron Bull squinted at her like he hadn't done in a while. She cherished those rare moments when he didn't have her pinned down, even intellectually. "I guess I took the bait, Boss. But Orlesian, Tal Vashoth, Fereldan, hell, even the Vints seem to all agree on the importance of true, life-long friends. The Qun isn't any different there."

"Except?" Habrynn prodded.

"Except we don't _have sex _with our friends." The Iron Bull admonished.

"Oh," Habrynn muttered into her drink.

"But for someone we care about, there is an old tradition…" He mused. "You find a Dragon's Tooth. Break it in half, and you each wear a piece. That way, no matter how far apart life takes you, you're always together."

Habrynn continued to watch The Iron Bull for a long while, until she was three-drinks into tipsy. She excused herself with something forgettable, and wandered the parapets for most of the afternoon, oblivious to everything except her own nerves. "Did he just… suggest what I think he did?" She thought. She had seen human couples and elven bond-mates, and even heard of the odd legal proceedings of Dwarven match-making.

But she never imagined that Qunari relationships required killing a dragon. "Hell," She thought, "Maybe that's the real reason why the dragons have been hunted to the verge of extinction."

Her thoughts were interrupted by Varric as she blearily passed through the Grand Hall. "A word, your Inquisitorialness?"

Habrynn smiled faintly. Though she saw the same glint of religious verfor in Varric's eyes on occasion, he seemed to be the only one besides Sera willing to speak with her in a casual manner. It was refreshing. "Yes, Varric?"

"You know my little list we discussed?"

Habrynn nodded. A bounty on every red lyrium vein that reached the surface, and another for the head of every Red Templar slain. "Yes…." She drawled uncertainly.

"Well, I've heard word of a valley in the Hinterlands where we can strike two lodes with one axe. There's a swarm of stray Templars there, and several major veins of the red stuff that need to be taken out."

"Is that so?" Habrynn grinned, thinking how nice it would be to get away from Skyhold for a few days. Before she knew it her mind was imagining grass strains in unspeakable places, instead of splinters and brickwork scrapes.

"There's just one problem," Varric continued with a wary glance in response to her far-off expression.

"What's that?" Habrynn replied as she returned to reality.

"Oh… it's about thirty feet long and scaley. This one is supposed to be golden orange. And _hungry_."

"Andraste's sense of humor can be… disconcerting," Habrynn thought, while gazing back at Varric with the best Wicked-Grace expression she could muster.


	8. The Pedigree of Dragons

**SPOILERS! **This section of the story takes place after "Here Lies the Abyss." I've been writing this story under the assumption that you have played the game before. It isn't my desire to transcribe the game's dialogue, so I try to summarize those sections. At this point this story diverges heavily from the main plot.

Some parts of this story depict sexual acts, but I hope in a tastefully vague way (this chapter is clean aside from a few offhand references to their sex life). If you're not okay with that, then at least you were forewarned.

**Trigger warning:** Much of the this story deals with anxiety, personal demons, mental anguish, and human(oid) misery. I think a lot of why I've written this story is to try and communicate a reflection of my own struggles, but please know I don't write this to make those who are suffering feel worse. Instead, I hope to show that eventually there is a light at the end of the tunnel, it just might take your friends dragging you physically along the train tracks to reach it.

**Please review!** This is my first time ever posting to this site. I've written and drawn other stories, but this sort of blindsided me from nowhere. I'm just hoping others enjoy the story as I try to spin it out of my head.

**LASTLY! I do not own Dragon Age or the characters, nor do I receive compensation for this work.**

* * *

Habrynn smirked like a fool as she downed the Maaras-Lok The Iron Bull poured for her.

"Ataaaashi," Bull swooned, "The Glorious Ones," He continued, swigging another cup for himself. She continued to stare at him with heavy-lidded eyes, concentrating more on the prize of the fight than on him. She could feel the dragon's tooth pressed into her hip bag. She'd furtively worked on it as they rode with the caravan dragging the Dragon's remains back to Redcliffe-the nearest town with a port that could accommodate the amazing treasure that was the Dragon's remains itself. The fight hadn't been easy. In fact it had been a poor decision once she saw the first gout of flame spill out from it's enormous maw. The giant serpent turned out to be a fire-breather… the same element that had always dominated her magic.

The end result was a skirmish in all directions as dragonlings tackled them from their flank, and wave after wave of flames swept over them. Sera's recent dabblings in alchemical potions served her well as she poured flask after flask over herself, and dove into the fires to get the best shots off. Bull struggled almost as much as Habrynn, though you would never have guessed it from his intense (and after listening to him talk tonight, incredibly _perverse_) battle cries. The Dragon flew and leapt from outcropping to outcropping, and though he would never admit to weakness, she had never heard The Iron Bull pant so loudly as he did while sprinting continuously to get within reach of the beast. Vivienne's experience had propped her up as she stumbled through the fight, shouting commands to combine their abilities to further shield the party, and then dash in with spirit blades in hand. Despite the noble woman's usual coldness, she had finally warmed to Habrynn when she learned that her old teacher Hellane was taking Habrynn under her wing. The death knell of the great beast was struck when Sera landed an arrow in the great Wyrm's eye, and it faltered and began to snap blindly in all directions..

She still could feel the spray of blood hit her when Bull had landed the final blow, and the creature screeched out at a pitch that made all their armor vibrate. When their hearing returned a few moments later, they were all standing in a quickly expanding pool of blood, amidst a valley now scattered with enough dragon hides to outfit the entire inner circle.

"Here," Bull laughed uproariously, "Your turn!" He filled her tankard again with another dose of Maaras-Lok, burning her nose from even a foot away. She tipped the cup up, and regretted the second glass as much as the first. It took several minutes of coughing before she could get more than a squeak from her throat again.

"Why do you think the Qunari see the dragons that way? I thought the Qun didn't really have anything Sacred," Habrynn smirked, and tried to concentrate on him as the buzz intensified.

"Well... " Bull slurred, "You know how we have horns? We kind of look more… Dragony… than most people. Maybe it's that. But a few of the Ben-Hassrath have this crazy old theory. See. The Tamassrans control who we mate with."

Habrynn nearly spit the liquor out. Instead, it found a way to go up the back of her nose. "Cke-HACK! WHAT?!"

"They breed us for jobs, you know, for specific traits like humans breeds dogs or horses. What if they mixed in dragon a long time ago," Iron Bull mused. "Maybe drinking the blood, maybe magic-" He slapped her back hard to help her clear the alcohol, and she looked up at him with wide eyes.

"You're HAPPY they _breed_ you?!" Habrynn snapped.

"Yeah. They keep records of everyone's geneology as far back as… as… really far back. They choose donors to make whatever specialized Quanri they think will be needed in the next generation." Bull pondered, "Something in that Dragon… spoke to me…"

Her mother's voice echoed in her mind, "_They made our child a weapon."_

Habrynn slammed her hands down on the bartop, and shouted, "They WHAT?! The QUN did this to _me_?"

The Iron Bull put down his tankard and stared back at her with instant sobriety. "What do you mean, Boss?"

She shoved him with all her weight, surprising even herself when he was knocked back from his stool, and forced to jostle to stay upright. She scowled at him with a sudden hatred in her eyes. "Saarebas!" She hissed out. "They PLANNED this! They CHOSE this for me?!"

"Hey!" Bull shouted back, "You're Tal-Vashoth, that word doesn't even-"

She didn't let him finish before she shoved him hard again, now backing him into one of the pillars that held up the Upper Balconies. She persisted, and stood on tiptoes to get up in his face, "How would you KNOW?"

The Iron Bull snorted at her as his eye glanced around furtively. She could hear the squeal of stools being pushed out, and chairs being frantically moved aside throughout The Herald's Rest. She thought she heard a far-off shout of, "What's going on?" But she continued to concentrate on The Iron Bull as the fire in her belly burned white-hot, until her hands glowed a cold blue-green.

Her apple-green eyes met his, and gradually shifted to a blue glow. "You say you're no longer Qun and yet you still speak of them so reverently? The same people who would have leashed me and sewn my mouth shut?"

"But you're not _part _of the Qun-!" The Iron Bull shouted back. Habrynn growled, and faster than snapping her fingers, she burst into green flames and slammed her fists down onto his chest a single time. As fast as the burst of magefire erupted it subdued, leaving the whole Inn quiet, and Iron Bull on the ground with the smell of burned flesh wafting up from where he crouched.

"Enough!" Vivienne's commanding voice echoed through the Tavern. Habrynn had forgotten about her perch in the corner, sipping her fine vintages in homage to the same Dragon Fight they were celebrating right now.

"No… I-" Habrynn stammered. Bull grimaced, and winced as he touched his chest where two fist-sized circles of frost-bitten skin showed clearly. "N-no, No, Bull. I-I'm sorry," Habrynn stuttered.

He raised his hands into the air as she reached out to him, "Katoh."

Habrynn tried to meet his eye again, but Bull simply winced and made his way towards the Chargers table to nurse his wounds. She twisted and turned to look into the gawking faces of the Tavern patrons, until the only thought that filled her mind was, "Run." She fled through the front door without looking back.

"Oi! What sort of fight are you two oxen-" Sera shouted as she bolted to the railing from her private hideaway on the second floor. By the time she glanced around and realized just how much shit had hit the metaphorical windmill, the Tavern door was already slamming, and as she raced back to her window, she saw Habrynn running at full speed towards the stables.

Returning to the banister, Sera snarled down to Bull, "WHAT Did you say to my bestie, you lummox?!"

Bull grimaced and pushed Stitches aside as the healer he tried to get a look at the two burns on his chest. He shook his head a few more times as if that could clear the strange site from his mind, but all he replied was, "I don't know."

"It can't be," Vivienne boggled. "But I'm sure.. the color, the temperature…"

"What?" barked Bull.

Vivienne stared at him firmly, and continued, "Our dear Inquisitor just cast ..._Veilfire."_


	9. The Absent Inquisitor

**SPOILERS! **This section of the story takes place after "Here Lies the Abyss" and Before "What Pride Hath Wrought". I've been writing this story under the assumption that you have played the game before. It isn't my desire to transcribe the game's dialogue, so I try to summarize those sections. At this point this story diverges heavily from the main plot. A lot of what goes down is extrapolating from a variety of tidbits through all three games that explain the nature of demons, mages, magic, and possession. I took a bit of my own spin in this story, and I'm sure there's some rules I don't know about or just plain get wrong, so please forgive and keep reading.

Some parts of this story depict sexual acts, but I hope in a tastefully vague way (this chapter is totally clean). If you're not okay with that, then at least you were forewarned.

**Trigger warning:** Much of the this story deals with anxiety, personal demons, mental anguish, and human misery. I think a lot of why I've written this story is to try and communicate a reflection of my own struggles, but please know I don't write this to make those who are suffering feel worse. Instead, I hope to show that eventually there is a light at the end of the tunnel, it just might take your friends dragging you physically along the train tracks to reach it.

**Please review!** This is my first time ever posting to this site. I've written and drawn other stories, but this sort of blindsided me from nowhere. I'm just hoping others enjoy the story as I try to spin it out of my head.

**LASTLY! I do not own Dragon Age or the characters, nor do I receive compensation for this work.**

* * *

"_I will never hurt you without your permission. You will always be safe. If you are ever uncomfortable, if you ever want me to stop, you say 'Katoh' and it's over. No questions asked._"

"Stupid," Habrynn growled. It was becoming hard concentrate on the path through the dense drizzle. When she first galloped away from Skyhold, the air was cold but at least it was dry and clear. An hour ago she had descended through a cloud as she passed the snowline, and now everything was a wet, and the rain continued in a gray damp misery without any sign of an end from this cliff all the way to the horizon.

She had grabbed her favorite dappled Marcher horse, Spectacle. The Mare was half over larger than her cousins in Dennett's stables, and had thicker hair and surer feet than most of the others. "A perfect companion for a Quanari who never became a graceful _anything_." Habrynn thought sourly. The first part of the ride had been a mad dash to leave Skyhold before anyone asked questions. But now that the rain cast out all starlight and dawn was still many hours away, she was trying her best just to stay upright in the saddle as the mare followed her own instincts to find the first basecamp below the hold.

Habrynn didn't have a plan. As the night's strange event unfolded again in her mind, all she could feel was self-loathing and the distinct impression that she shouldn't return for a while. "He said Katoh," She thought, "Never hurt without permission. That was his ONE rule, and you threw it in his face! Stupid. Stupid…"

She touched the saddlebag where the gilded dragon tooth halves were resting, and leaned over to rest her head against the Mare's neck. "Stupid," She whispered.

*,*,*

For Skyhold, that night passed by in a flurry of quiet rumor-mongering, loud theories, and even louder arguments. Sera shouted to whoever seemed important enough, "Why isn't anyone going after her?" before storming off to find someone who would take her request seriously.

By morning the tale had become so distorted in the retelling that the only pebble of fact that matched between every storyteller was, "Inquisitor Adaar was damn angry about something." Oblivious to the wild tales, Cullen finally grew suspicious when his usual messangers failed to bring the Inquisitor to the War Table for their usual early morning tactical meeting. What had begun as a night of furtive hearsay had quietly turned into a controlled panic when news of their missing leader began to be confirmed.

Soon, all of the Inner Circle were together in the War Room. Space that was usually large and airy was now standing room only.

"I don't know what you brought us all into this stuffy-shirt place for anyhow," Sera scowled. "NO ONE has gone after her! Haven't one of your bird-boys said anything?" Sera pointed to Lelianna.

Lelianna shook her head. "I fear our usual acceptance of the Inquisitor's duties has blinded my agents. I sent word to keep watch for her, but she has half a day's lead on us."

Bull growled and scratched at the two blisters on his chest, "Boss is just… upset about something. Maybe she just needs some air."

Varric nodded his head in agreement, "She's tough. She's been through Mage crap before, and she's twice as capable as most of the people I dealt with in Kirkwall. Aren't we all overreacting a little?"

Josephine huffed delicately, and pointed a quill at him, "The Inquisitor is NOT any ordinary Mage. She's a symbol, and we can't let this incident grow into a scandal."

Sera sneered, "SCANDAL? My best friend's burnin' up the Tavern and running off into the night and you care about her IMAGE? Maker SHIT on your _image_, am I the only one who knows her well enough to see that this shite is WEIRD, even for her big magey-butt?"

Vivienne crooned from the side where she sat near a window, still paging through a stack of books she and Dorian had dragged from the library. "I'm afraid the little cretin is right-"

Sera chirped, "THANKS! Wait-"

Vivienne continued, "Casting Veilfire is unnatural and unheard of. Must I be the one to state the obvious? We must face the possibility that she is Maleficarum."

Dorian stood up straight from where he had been hunched over next to her, "Are you SERIOUS, woman? Our dear Inquisitor may have dabbled in something you don't understand, but to accuse her of _blood magic_?"

Solas countered calmly, looking off into the mountains as he worried his staff grip, "I have to agree with our Tevinter friend. I do not think she has fallen to blood magic. But Vivienne may be on to something different. I DO believe a demon is involved in this outburst… the Veilfire _is_ telling."

Sera stammered, "What?" As concern grew on her face. "N-No way! NO WAY would she ever work with demons! NO! NOT possible!" She made a slashing X with her arms and turned away from the table in a huff.

"-Bodies everywhere." Cassandra recited, as she held a thick tome in her hand. "Friends and people who had helped me along the way, and their blood was scattered over my clothing. We had to wade through pools of it.-"

"Maker's Breath, what are you reading?" Cullen grimaced.

The Iron Bull had been watching everyone silently until now, but mention of the Fade made him shiver involuntarily. For a brief moment, the green unliving glow of the place flashed through his mind, and he saw the burning unliving maws of demons and felt the searing cuts of lightning scales break his skin.

Cassandra turned towards Cullen and explained, "I spoke with Inquisitor Adaar about writing an account of her trip through the Fade at Adamant. She agreed, but asked that she be allowed to write her entry in private. There is more… 'So many people have died because of me. And I saw them all there, and I saw more dying. The only thing I could hold on to while I was there was the sight of my friends walking through the same landscape as me. They would walk through the bodies around me like passing through fog, and I would be able to see the fade as it was again, just an alien terrain of rocks and light. But it would return- "

Bull growled, "Enough!"

Casandra stirred from reading the entry, and everyone turned to look at him.

"Really?" Bull spat, "She saw some bad shit in the fade, so you're assuming she's a demon, now? We ALL saw shit in the fade! It was horrible! They didn't call that thing a NIGHTMARE without a good reason."

Cole finally blinked into vision, perched on a window ledge high above everyone. "No sleep," He whispered to the silenced crowd. "Aching, burning, tearing at her. Like trying to cross a canyon on a crumbling bridge."

The Iron Bull stared up at him in surprise as Cole continued, "Tightness, like an unending embrace. It's good, but there's pain… so much pain…" Cole shook his head, "I was scared… I came back from the fade. I did NOT come back from the fade. Was I still 'me'? I thought those were my thoughts. I heard her voice, but thought it was an echo. She felt the same. She is hurting. She is splitting."

"Splitting?" Varric scowled, "It's safe to assume that's probably not a good thing?"

Dorian ran a hand through his hair nervously, and glanced over to Vivienne, "You were there at Adamant. What's your opinion?"

Vivienne scowled at the ground like she was trying to balance a long equation, "I don't know… but perhaps… if it held onto a piece. Even a tiny piece… no-"

"Spit it out, veil-pants!" Sera shouted.

Vivienne glanced up, and then glanced at each of them frantically, "The demon we faced in Adamant may still have a part of her."

Solas nodded, "Not Maleficarum, but a far worse scenario: abomination. Even if any of us could bring ourselves to kill Inquisitor Adaar… what would we have left if the one who carries the Anchor is lost to us?"

Blackwall finally spoke up in a low growl, "No!" He pointed to each person in turn for emphasis. "You're all forgetting something very important. And that's simply that Inquisitor Adaar is a _good _person. She's a better woman than most of us in this room. Do you all really believe, deep in your guts and your heart that a woman who will march through muck and rain to save villagers she's never met, can willingly accept a demon of ANY kind?"

Morrigan nodded agreement. "I'm not sure if I feel the same… faith… as our Warden friend, but I see little option besides hoping for the best and trying to figure out where she has gone to as soon as possible."


	10. The Inquisitor, Lost

**SPOILERS! **This section of the story takes place after "Here Lies the Abyss" and Before "What Pride Hath Wrought". I've been writing this story under the assumption that you have played the game before. It isn't my desire to transcribe the game's dialogue, so I try to summarize those sections. At this point this story diverges heavily from the main plot. A lot of what goes down is extrapolating from a variety of tidbits through all three games that explain the name of demons, mages, magic, and possession. I took a bit of my own spin in this story, and I'm sure there's some rules I don't know about or just plain get wrong, so please forgive and keep reading.

Some parts of this story depict sexual acts, but I hope in a tastefully vague way (this chapter is totally clean). If you're not okay with that, then at least you were forewarned.

**Trigger warning:** Much of the this story deals with anxiety, personal demons, mental anguish, and human misery. I think a lot of why I've written this story is to try and communicate a reflection of my own struggles, but please know I don't write this to make those who are suffering feel worse. Instead, I hope to show that eventually there is a light at the end of the tunnel, it just might take your friends dragging you physically along the train tracks to reach it.

**Please review!** This is my first time ever posting to this site. I've written and drawn other stories, but this sort of blindsided me from nowhere. I'm just hoping others enjoy the story as I try to spin it out of my head.

**LASTLY! I do not own Dragon Age or the characters, nor do I receive compensation for this work.**

* * *

The sheer amount of unexplored territory in the Frostbacks always astounded Habrynn. Even if she followed the well-trampled army trails, it was a week's ride to the nearest major settlement. Now that she headed south without a destination in mind, she was coming to understand just why it was so difficult to eradicate all the brutal tribes who claimed these valleys and ravines.

Three days had passed since that night at the Tavern, and she had barely slept. The last Inquisition camp she stopped at seemed leery of her solitude. With a week's supplies packed on her mare Spectacle, she decided to avoid even the Inquisiton's dedicated encampments from then on. Every night her sleep was interrupted by whispers as if someone was in the tent with her, or a grasping hands pulling at her. Again and again she would awake, only for the terrors to dissipate into green flashes at the edge of her vision as she sat up, choking down a scream before she might attract attention she didn't want. After barely resting at all, she would ready Spectacle's saddle and packs in the cold half-light before dawn, and gallop away in the hopes that the next campsite might prove more restful.

*,*,*

"THREE DAYS!" Sera thought. She kicked a rock, and cringed after it bounced over the terrace in the main courtyard and hit the camp surgeon on the head. Sera dove into a convenient bush to watch as the grumpy middle-aged woman turn this way and that, shouting curses at her invisible assailant. Sera giggled despite her gloom, with a hand clamped tight on her own face to keep her complicity from being heard.

It was from the bush that she spied a tall woman sitting among the more recent pilgrims. The woman turned to the surgeon and said something calm and soothing, and the small horns at the top of her head became visible. Sera stared at the Qunari, transfixed.

Sera's thoughts returned to Habrynn, and she stood straight up from the bush angrily. She turned on her heel, and ignored the Surgeon crying out at her as she stamped off towards The Iron Bull. She strode up to him in the Tavern and grabbed his arm in what she thought was a commanding way, though with his great weight and size, she was barely able to move his arm. With just a small flex he dashed her hopes of impressively dragging him away.

The Iron Bull had a lazy look today, which Sera figured anyone else would think was just his usual nonchalance, but she knew it was two other things altogether. "One," She thought, "He's drunk. Not a good Drunk. Like, An 'I'm so sad I'll drink and people might not ask me stupid how-are-you-feeling questions'' … drunk. And TWO," she continued to think, "He's sad. Poor big soppy bull."

But what she said aloud while she tugged and tugged and finally put her foot up against his hip for leverage was, "COME OOOONNNNNNN!"

The Iron Bull sighed, and set his tankard down as her increased effort made it start to slosh. "What do you want, Sera?"

Sera let go of his arm and stood tall as she could with her arms on her hips. She swung an arm out towards the door dramatically and said, "There's another Ox- er.. Q lady, like you out there. Maybe she'd be some help?"

The Iron Bull stared at her a while, and then peered over to the Chargers, who were scrunched tighter into their dedicated corner than usual. They all peered back and shrugged. The Iron Bull finally shrugged, "Alright. I'm sure she's no one important, but it can't hurt."

"It got you up off your ass," one of the Chargers muttered, but Bull seemed unphased or deaf to their sarcasm today.

It was a short walk through the garden tunnel down to the lower camp. As soon as they neared the row of medical tents, the Inquisition Surgeon grabbed Sera right by the ear and tugged her aside to give her a lecture on where rocks should and shouldn't be.

Bull was left to find the woman Sera had been so excited about on his own. As he rounded the corner towards the stable yard, he noticed her immediately. It was hard not to, when she was more than a head taller than all the human and elven refugees around her. She turned to him, and walked straight towards him with a careful smile on her face. "Are you-" She began,

"Tammassran," He identified quickly by a single pointed pendant hanging around her neck.

She looked past him for a moment, and fingered the necklace as she spoke, "Oh. Once… decades ago, I was. This is just… a momento. The only small piece I kept."

The Iron Bull nodded. "Good. We aren't on good terms with the Qun these days."

"And I would have already tried to poison you if I was," She chuckled softly. "You're so hostile. I can practically feel the tense shoulders in your voice."

The Iron Bull, surprised at himself, apologized, "I'm sorry… it has been a rough year."

"People trying to kill you will do that to a man," She answered back.

Again, Bull stumbled to speak as she seemed to know what he would say. For a long moment, he pondered what he could possibly say. Before he could overthink, the woman reached up an ebony hand to touch his arm, and glanced away to the other side of him. He could see clearly in her eyes now that they were fogged and gray over dark green irises. She could probably barely see him.

"Please… I'm just trying to find my daughter," she begged.

The Iron Bull shook his head, "No other Tal-Vashoth here but me."

She furrowed her brows, "Her name is Habrynn Vertrande. She sent me this letter."

"Habrynn," Bull stammered, looking the letter over with incredulity. He had rarely seen any of her writing, but that was indeed the Inquisition's seal on the parchment, and Lellianna's cryptic, intricate code scratched into the very corner of the outer flap. An untrained eye might have even mistaken it for a bit of decoration to the note's edge, but Bull had seen it before, and figured it was either secret codes being carried on more innocent messages, or a way for the falconers she worked with to direct the messages along the branching network of handlers.

But he had never heard Habrynn use the name Vertrande before, nor had she said a word about her family. The past few days were revealing many things he hadn't expected from the Inquisitor, but for some reason, a small lie like a hidden name struck a painful chord amidst the current chaos.

"Please." Her lip quivered as she continued, "I'm afraid she may be in terrible danger."

"You… must know your daughter is the leader of the Inquisition. Some even say she's the Herald of Andraste."

The woman twisted the edge of her cloak nervously, and covered her mouth. "I had no idea. I thought she was just a mercenary. Perhaps an Apostate advisor. No… this is too much for her-"

Her arm had begun to shake with enough force that she looked like she might fall. Bull leaned in and offered an arm, and the woman clenched his wrist and nodded appreciately as he walked her to the Chantry's garden to speak more privately. Normally he would have brought her to the Tavern or his room, but a strange burst of shame filled him when he even considered bringing his lover's mother to his disheveled sleeping place.

"My name… the name I took on twenty-two years ago, is Ella Vertrande." She explained as the termor had subsided.

They sat in silence observing the wind in the ghost-bark trees, until Bull finally began in Qunlat, "You were of the Qun? Seemed like Inquisitor Adaar never knew anything about it… she was always asking questions that would have been obvious to me."

Ella flinched, "Why do you call her 'Weapon'?"

Bull shrugged, "It's her name. The name she gave us. I never thought anything of it until now."

Ella worried a lock of hair and frowned, "No… I thought I made it better."

Bull contemplated her reaction for a moment, before inquiring, "Made what better?"

Ella stammered, "I wish we had some tea… or something stronger," She chuckled dryly, "Perhaps we should have gone to your tavern. I'm sure you won't believe me… but ever since She was conceived… I've had visions of that child."

The word "Vision" stuck out amidst the Qunlat. The Qun did not believe in such things. The Qun _was_. The see what would be would only see the present. It was explicitly foreign to the language.

"Visions?" Bull glared. He was really getting sick of all the "Maker's got a plan for us all" that had been going around in the past year. Habrynn's ambivalent use of her title as a tool and not a religious mantle had been refreshing, even if her decidedly Andrastian cursing habits said otherwise.

"I… you have to understand. They placed her father and I together, but it didn't work. What should have been a few consummations became… months! But they were insistent. Her father, his name is Gerimonde now, and I were given quarters together. They wanted us to produce a child so badly." She reached over and gripped his wrist hard. Through the contact he could feel her shaking.

"That's very strange." He said. She nodded.

"I didn't intend to, but I grew to love him. We cared so much for each other that when I-"

"What visions?" Bull interrupted her.

"Oh, yes," She stammered. "I saw… I saw a child I knew was mine. Saw what they do to the Saarebas. And I saw-"

Bull sighed, "You saw the same torment every mage endures. You wanted to give her a life, I understand, but-"

"NO!" She gripped his wrist tighter, with a ferocity that surprised him. When he looked into her failing eyes he saw the commanding Tammassran that must have once been there. "No!" She declared, "I did this for everyone. I did not see _her_ suffering. I saw _everyone's_ suffering!"

*,*,*

Habrynn lifted her foot high, and then tentatively plunked it down into a deep snowdrift that came up higher than her boots. Spectacles had tossed her as she hit some obstruction under the snow, and though they had cleared most of the snowline on their way down the next valley, now the snow was wet and covering a layer of thick mud that sucked at her feet as well as the Mare's, making each step a chore to keep one's shoes on one's feet, and not topple over before the next step.

"Blighted bollocks, this is obnoxious," Habrynn cursed. She scanned the valley below again, and saw a great expanse of evergreens and little patches of wildflowers. Tiny plumes of smoke in the far distance told her that there were likely remaining Avaar tribe camps the next peak over, but this valley at least was probably a safe place to rest.

She continued down the slope one freezing, sucking footstep at a time.

*,*,*

"What are you talking about?" Bull grumbled.

"I saw a pillar of light, burning and absorbing everything around it. I saw that if I had let the Qun have this child…"

Bull's eyes grew wide. "You're shitting me-" He dropped out of Qunlat in his haste, "She would have destroyed Par Vollen?"

"Asit," She trembled, "tal-eb." _It is meant to be._

Bull yanked his arm away and roared, "NO!" He began to circle around, "You are NOT telling me this! I will not hear you tell me that Habrynn is some… some second Kirkwall waiting to happen!" He loomed over her, glaring into her eyes, searching for an answer. "Why would you keep her if you thought that?" He grabbed her shoulders and shook, "WHY?"

Ella wept, and covered her face. "I loved him! The Qun would not have killed the child. They had some reason they _wanted _our child! I had to flee. When we left Par Vollen, the visions stopped. When she ran away twelve years ago, they began to come back!"

*,*,*

Habrynn sat down on a fallen log and let Spectacle roam the wildflowers in the small meadow they had finally reached. It had been hours, and it was all she could do to just sit and rest. She was too sore and tired even to eat. As she rested her head in her hands, she wondered again why she was still travelling.

"Why not go back?" She murmured. "I don't even know why I got so mad…"

The smell of seared flesh and singed wood came back to her. Chairs squealing on the floor. Eyes locked on her, judging her. Staring at her with fear and doubt. Condemnation clear in Vivienne's gaze.

"Right," Habrynn groaned. "Right, thanks, Habrynn… now I remember."

"_Adaar,"_ Her mother's voice whispered back from her memories.

A familiar crackle and warped groan reached her ears far across the empty valley. She grabbed her staff from her back and a fist full of lyrium vials from Spectacle's sides and charged forwards towards the rift.

"If I can do anything right!" She shouted, "It's close a damned RIFT!"

*,*,*

"So you're saying you've had visions that your daughter would become a living bomb for the past twelve years?!" Bull snarled.

Ella laughed through the tears, "The things I see, they aren't all like that. Sometimes she's fine, sometimes she's not. It seems, the less I can see of the real world, the more I see of her fate. The day the Breach appeared in the sky, they stopped… I thought she had died…"

Bull scrutinized her quietly.

Ella bit her lip as she whiped away tears and waiting for the tremble to pass. She whispered, "but then, a month ago, they started again. And I received the letter, so I knew she lived, but…"

"What letter?"

"She asked if her brother was a mage. I came to tell he's not, he's normal. I wanted to see her, to explain everything to her in person. Knowing that she is part of the Inquisition-"

"Part?" Bull guffawed. "Do you realize what the Inquisitor _does_?"

"I didn't know she was the Herald until today. You must believe me! She's in terrible danger if she stays near the Rifts. I don't know why, I just _know_-"

*,*,*

"Barrier," Habrynn recited, "Aura, stop them with with Lightning, Sword, then let the fire walls flow from me."

She dashed forward, knocking back branches and jumping over washed out roots as she kept the green glow in her sights. Brilliant blue energy streamed behind her as the barrier spell washed over her as she ran. "Barrier, Aura, Lightning, Sword, fire. More sword. More fire," She recited again, and chugged down the first Lyrium potion. She felt a warm rush tingle towards her toes and up through her horns, making her feel like three days without sleep was _nothing_. Making her feel _alive_.

She smiled giddily, and burst through the final swath of branches and stuck the ground with her staff as she landed. Shockwaves of lighting arched through the shades, and as she looked up, she counted two wraiths and a single spindly terror. She powered through them as best she could with her spell blade, and concentrated hard on the rift as she counted the seconds.

"One, two, three," She whispered, and the energy burst into a wave around her. "Four, five, six," she counted as she paced around the rift while it arced out raw fade energy, shattering the ground where she had been moments before.

"Seven, eight, nine-" She growled, and held a dispersion spell in her mind as circular summoning points bloomed all around her, "TEN!" She shouted, and dispersed the two wraiths nearest her and reinforced her barrier as a new wave of shades descended.

She held the barrier through ground teeth, trying not to contemplate the possibility that one would attack with just the right harmonic to disrupt her effort to collapse the rift with a straight shot of Anchor energy.

The rift burst open and levelled the shades around her with raw fade energy again, and a strike of her staff against the ground brought fire roaring up all around her, and the shrill cries of the spirits disappeared back into the rift once more.

She stood back up, panting out another count, "Seven, eight… nine…" And a deep chiming note raised her eyes to the rift, which expelled a small halo of energy, and then relaxed to a play of lights like wheat fluttering in the wind. Holding up her left hand, she felt into the rift, pulled the disparate energies together, and tugged hard until she felt the weave of the universe snap back into place.

She drew in a breath and smiled for a moment. Though she was shivering now with sweat and mud caking her body, the world was a little bit safer now. Her eyes opened slowly as energy began to crackle around her again. Right in front of her where the rift had just closed, a new spark of energy began to grow, and her left hand throbbed in time with it.

She held up her hand, and began to back away. "No," She gasped. "No, no… this isn't how rifts work! CLOSE, DAMNIT!" She thrust her hand back again, but instead of the point of light shrinking, it exploded with a crackling shriek of energy that knocked her on her back.

*,*,*

Ella screamed, and fell to her knees, clutching her head. "No! Where is she! Take me to my daughter!"

Bull backed away as the Chantry sisters began to shuffle over with concerned faces and well-meaning intention glinting in their eyes. Bull could only shake his head in confusion, "We don't know!" Then he shouted at her and the Chantry Sisters who were starting to crowd in at the same time, "What's wrong? Help her! What's happening?!"

"It's too late!" was all Ella could sob between bursts of pain.

*,*,*

Habrynn's boots slid in the mud as she staggered to her feet again. All around her, the meadow had been blasted back, revealing carbon where dirt had been, and disjointed rocks glowing green like unnatural coals. Where the rift had been before, a window into the Fade cracked ever-wider in front of her. A dark, hungry chasm expanded out ahead of her, the same landscape that the Nightmare ruled. Terror weakened her, and she stumbled backwards.

"NO!" She screeched. "No! I'd rather be dead!" She chugged another lyrium potion, and a then her last, throwing the glass vials into the void defiantly. "You," she raised her left hand, even though pain shot through it and expanded into her chest. "WILL," she opened her fingers, willing the energies to meet.

"CLOSE!" She snarled. A green pulse shot from her to the void, and everything around her seemed to slant sideways, like the world was falling away. Her vision flicked black, then brilliant green, then pale blue. For an instant she saw the mouth of Nightmare's realm grow like it was swallowing her whole, and then she was falling past mirrors, disjointedly angled around her, casting back green and shadowy scenes that made Adamant seem cheerful by comparison. She crashed through glass and the veil seemed to shatter around her, cutting through her robes and leaving ribbons of blood threading through the freefall around her.

Then she was lost.

*,*,*

"Too late," Ella whimpered, and then went completely limp into the arms of the Sisters who were already whispering amongst themselves and shouting orders to their fellows in the Chantry. Bul paused to watch them fuss and carry her away to the healer's tents, feeling a deep coil of unease tighten in his stomach.

The Iron Bull left Habrynn's mother in their care and raced to the south facing wall of Skyhold, urged on by a fear he hadn't felt since the siege of Adamant. It seemed like all of Skyhold was growing quiet. As he sprinted up the stairs, he started to notice how even his armor, his clothes, his footfalls grew deaf in his ears. Running was normally a rhythmic thing for him. There was always an echo of metal and hardened leather in each step, a second heartbeat.

He stopped at the outer wall, and saw that Sera was already there, gazing out into the Hinterlands with a terrified expression on her face from a ledge high up one of the watchtowers. At the distant corner he saw Cassandra also looking out from a distant parapet. Bull gazed into the forest as well, and in the early glow of sunset he watched as a thin plume of green fire rose into the sky and continued to burn.

"Saarebas," Bull whispered. He felt the shockwave first through his feet, just a tiny vibration in the stones at first. Birds flew out of the canopy before them, squawking and silently skattering in all direction. The treetops rustled like a wave, and then a force like a giant slammed into them all with a burst of screams and grinding metal. It knocked the wind out of him as it bashed him into the back wall of the parapet.

Through the ringing in his head, a voice cried out through a metallic echo, "..'m… s..rry."

He growled and clammered to his feet and saw Sera coughing from where she had been knocked to the walkway near him. He offered her an arm up even as he looked back to the green plume that remained far in the distance. The echo rattled through his mind again, louder now, "...I'm sorry.. f.. failed you all."

Bull could see Sera shouting at him. Her arms were thrown up next to her face like being louder would make him hear her. Anger as replaced by confusion. She obviously suffered the same effects as him, but Sera was never one to suffer anything silently. Gradually, the noise around them returned, and her cursing cut through the cacophony that grew across Skyhold as soldiers and messengers alike sprang into alert.

"YOU FELT IT TOO, RIGHT?" Sera grimaced up at him, and rubbed her ears. "It hurts. It's her, isn't it? Your chest's all burny and stuff too, right?" She coughed again. "Bleeding nug-humper, that HURT, though!"

Bull looked over to Cassandra, who was throwing off the attentions of several soldiers trying to help her up as well. He spun as Sera shouted at him, "That voice. It's Habrynn! Something… BAD… HAS HER!"

"Has her?" Bull growled.

Cole flicked into visibility crouched on an outcropping, watching the plume motionlessly. "She is torn, and tears the world to escape."

"Ugh," Sera shivered, "That _thing _is talking again."

Cole turned owl-like to Bull, and intoned, "The mind fights, and the spirit hides. The wolf hunts itself. You are afraid, not just of demons."

"Eyw," Sera growled, "Shut it up!"

The Iron Bull just glared at Cole, but said nothing.


	11. Surrounding the Tear

**Author's note **\- I've been working on this story since March 10th, and I've got a fair amount of pages written, but I never post before I've given it at least a once-over and had a friend look it over. This is the last chapter I have ready currently, so the slew of posts will slow down after this chapter. I'm hoping to get at least one more chapter out this week, but we'll have to see how much time I have between work and DMing a D&amp;D game :) Thanks to everyone who's stuck with the story this far!

**SPOILERS! **This section of the story takes place after "Here Lies the Abyss" and Before "What Pride Hath Wrought". I've been writing this story under the assumption that you have played the game before. At this point this story diverges heavily from the main plot. A lot of what goes down is extrapolating from a variety of tidbits through all three games that explain the nature of demons, mages, magic, and possession. I took a bit of my own spin in this story, and I'm sure there's some rules I don't know about or just plain get wrong, so please forgive and keep reading.

If you're in this for the smut, I'm sorry that the juicy parts aren't going to be back for a while. There's enough sexual discussion in parts of the Fade that I wouldn't show this to minors, but we'll be dealing with some dark shit for a while. Hang in there, romance fans.

**Trigger warning:** Much of the this story deals with anxiety, personal demons, mental anguish, and human misery. I think a lot of why I've written this story is to try and communicate a reflection of my own struggles, but please know I don't write this to make those who are suffering feel worse. Instead, I hope to show that eventually there is a light at the end of the tunnel, it just might take your friends dragging you physically along the train tracks to reach it.

**Please review!** This is my first time ever posting to this site. I've written and drawn other stories, but this sort of blindsided me from nowhere. I'm just hoping others enjoy the story as I try to spin it out of my head.

**LASTLY! I do not own Dragon Age or the characters, nor do I receive compensation for this work.**

* * *

It was a poor consolation that the Tear had occurred so far away from any settlement. Though it seemed like no one else had been injured, the devastation to the landscape around it was almost the equal of the original Breach. A pillar of green flames a hundred feet in diameter rose into the sky. Rocks thrown aside by the initial blast left shattered trees in all directions and an uneven scar of earth scooped out of the valley floor.

Veilfire appeared like flames, but burned like frost, growing an uneven ring of ice around the site of the rift energy. Within the slowly spiralling inferno, the faint silhouette of Inquisitor Adaar was visible. She flashed with light one moment, and flickered and faded back to an ominous shadow the next. As the energy ebbed and flowed around her, she tumbled in perpetual freefall at the vertex of the storm.

Cassandra stared into the Tear as she paced around it's perimeter. She hadn't arranged this large of an operation since they had closed the old breach, and this was not the way she expected to be putting the Templars' abilities to use. Despite the Inquisitor's abilities being public knowledge, it seemed that no one had ever thought to simply ask if she had gone through a Harrowing. It seemed that a lot of things had gone unasked in the recent months.

It had taken another two days after the pillar had been sighted, but their caution meant that they had also arranged for a full regiment each of infantry and templars to be sent to the site along with the Inquisitor's champions, and had properly scouted the surrounding regions to keep back any opportunistic Avaar tribes. Lelianna stayed behind to continue her intelligence operations and pull the strings of the Game as long as possible to delay their weakness being exploited by their enemies.

Sera, The Iron Bull and the Chargers had been here a day sooner, after receiving word from The Friends of Red Jenny about a stray horse with Inquisition barding. They had been able to blaze a trail for the rest of the reinforcements to arrive, which was a delay but a necessity as their three head Mages rapidly argued amongst themselves what the best plan was.

"I'm telling you, this problem must be healed from within the Fade itself," Solas stated again.

"But what are we to do from this side? Even a small rift closure has an energy consequence," Vivienne snapped. "We must have a plan to stabilize the energy-"

"And what about the Veil?" Dorian quipped, "The Chargers were taking shifts before we got here just to keep the escaping Shades at bay!"

And on they argued, as Cassandra continued her patrol out of earshot. Three camps had been set up outside the growing ice bank, sprawling around the Tear like a wall of eyes. Even with two dozen Templars now taking shifts to leach radiant fade energies, several people had taken note that the column was still expanding, if slower than when they had first arrived at the site.

Cullen was taking the situation hard. His own men had finally ordered HIM to bed after he had been awake for more than a day. It had almost broke into a fight as he swore and cursed about organizing supply lines, patrols and communication with Leliana's network.

"I asked her how she was holding up, " He confided to Cassandra as she had personally dragged him back to his tent. "She told me she was scared… I thought it was just nerves. I was so out of my mind these past few weeks. She was so supportive through my withdrawls. How did I miss what _she _was going through?"

Cassandra had muttered a quick, "You're too hard on yourself," And personally guarded his tent against his escape until she hear soft whistling snores. As she continued her journey around the Tear for the dozenth time that night, she wondered how long it would be before someone else commanded her to stop and rest.

Until then, she continued her vigil around the woman she had come to see as a friend.

*,*,*

Bull never expected the Friends of Red Jenny to catch Habrynn's trail so fast, or bring back such a visceral reminder of her disappearance. A young man with a face full of acne and motley leather armor rode in to Skyhold on Spectacle with an uneasy grin on his face. Bull remembered how Cullen and Lelianna had leapt on the young man like a crack of thunder, raining down questions and demanding he identify every detail he could in triplicate across their charts of the region. Instead, The Iron Bull found himself emptying out all the saddlebags and tearing apart the contents in the hopes that there might be some clue his training could reveal. But when he finally unrolled a velveteen pouch with some of Habrynn's personal effects, his heart had writhed in his chest.

"_You find a dragon's tooth. Break it in half, and you each wear a piece,"_ he had nonchalantly explained to her weeks earlier. He barely remembered it. He had not even looked up from his drink. His hand went to the darkened fang without thinking, brushing over the polished surface, and lifting both pieces together. Turned apart, he could see an inscription burned in with Habrynn's surprisingly flourished handwriting.

"To _MY_ Iron Bull," It read, with a tiny spiralling heart curling beneath it. The other half had only a tiny heart, similar to the first, waiting for an answering inscription.

"Kadan," The Iron Bull whispered aloud, watching his breath catch in freezing air. An arc of energy hummed out from higher up the Tear, yanking his thoughts back from his remorse to the present danger. Green spears of light lanced into the ground a dozen yards away, consuming the ice and snow long enough for a pool of rift energy to flow up from the ground.

Bull charged headlong towards it and heaved his great axe into the forming rift, slicing through a despair demon and watching it wither into a tattered pile of shadows before those too disappeared. Though he had caught that one off guard, four others sprang up in a semi circle before him, as other Inquisition soldiers raced to meet his position. One lurched forward only to be snapped backwards by two daggers and a deadly shadow. The terror reeled backwards and Cole held on, slamming it into the ground with his weight before rolling away with silent grace.

"You bind the hands, but you are bound the same." Cole murmurred.

"Not the time!" Bull snarled as he slammed his body into a shade and then brought his axe down with full force to smash through the spectral limbs.

"You cannot leash a moth. It will still fly into the fire." Cole continued, slashing through a wisp that was coming at Bull's blind side. Bull grabbed Cole's arm, swung him around at another tattered horror and spun to face one that had just leapt to where Cole had been. He lunged forward, cracked the flat side of the axe into its skull and swung through, feeling a shiver along the handle like bones shattering. His skin tingled as the mist remaining from the demon trickled over his skin.

"Really? That almost makes sense." Bull growled before kicking a spindly terror away from himself when it sprang up from the ground.

"You think you failed her!" Cole stammered, and then tumbled out of the path of a rage demon that lurched out of the ground. Bull set his back foot and struck the axe upwards, catching the demon's maw as it lunged forwards.

"I KNOW I failed her!" Bull snarled. Searing magma spray flecked his face, hissing as it met his skin. He held a moment longer, and Cole materialized behind it, landing a half dozen blows before the creature could shake him off. As it's blistering visage began to fall apart, Bull heaved up and twisted the shaft, splitting the demon into two slanted halves. He dodged away as it became a searing puddle that was absorbed back into the charred ground with a final swirl of green steam.

"No," Cole shook his head. The brim of his hat hid his eyes as he searched the ground. All around them, the snow and ice was steaming from the energy let loose from the rift spirits. "I failed her. We all failed her."

Bull sighed, and set his axe into the ground like a walking stick for a moment.

Cole stared up at him as if looking at him for far away. "I can hear her screams. She calls out for you the most."

Bull frowned, yanked his axe from the ground and began to stride off again. "Not. Helping."

Cole called out, "I can't go in, or I will be lost!"

Bull strode forward, sloughing snow in all directions as he plodded towards the Charger's camp. He was stopped in his tracks as Cole blinked in front of him with a burst of scattered snow. " A knife lodged in your ribs. Smell of her sweat on your hands. Embers and granite. 'No matter how far apart.' That's what you were thinking."

Bull grimaced down at Cole. "What did I say about getting into my head?"

Cole shook his head, "I cannot return, or I will not return. But you. You can."

*,*,*

"This is no story for heroes," Varric muttered as he worked over Bianca for the third time that night.

"Y'already said that!," Sera sneered, and shot another arrow into an unfortunate tree bearing a crudely drawn approximation of Corypheus. The only part still visible around a clump of arrows was a squiggly line with red bits sticking out, and a line point into the target reading, "I M a TuRd!"

"Though I dislike pessimism, the child of the stone has a point," Solas replied. "All our plans boil down to a simple problem: Even with the Templars and as much black market Lyrium as we have amassed in the recent months, we still do not know if we can replicate the Anchor's effects on the Rifts. Even if they can reach the Inquisitor, it is obvious that this Rift has unique properties of it's own-"

"Can we get that in Common?" Varric grumbled and cracked the last skin of ice from Bianca's casing.

Vivienne cut in, "What Solas is saying is that this may be a suicide mission."

Blackwall snorted, "Suicide mission? Is that supposed to scare us _more? _You act like we didn't sign up for that already."

Dorian clicked his tongue, "Every moment we talk about this is lost time. She has already survived with demons and who knows what for three days. We need to try something, even if it isn't perfect."

"Pff-" Sera yanked the arrows from her target with a sneer and stuffed her quiver full again."You're all talking rubbish. Call me back when you have a plan to actually _help _her."

With a yank of her hood to cover her frostbitten ears, Sera stormed off into the snow.

*,*,*

Solas finally retired to his tent when their lack of progress began to wear on him. He was one of the last to arrive to the site. Not because he did not care. Far from it. The initial shockwave that had affected some of the residents of Skyhold but not all had knocked him unconscious when it first arrived.

There he had found himself in a grey and shadowed corner of the Fade. Though he wandered for a while trying to understand where he had fallen into, he was only left with the distinct impression that it had something to do with Habrynn's disappearance.

That hunch was confirmed by Sera's Friends after he awoke the next day. While the rest of the Hold frantically arranged expedition the supplies, he had continued to pass into sleep in hopes that he might find an answer while his colleagues floundered with plans formed without specific knowledge. His exploration bore no fruit within Skyhold. The paths he would normally take lead him in circles, or into dangerous pitfalls that all seemed to suggest that the place he intended to go was sealed away by a more ancient force.

Now that he was so close to Habrynn and the Tear that he could almost see her face, he desperately hoped another try would bring results. Solas breathed deep, calmed his mind and wrapped his furs around himself. With practiced ease, he reached out with a tendril of thought and quickly found his feet planted in soundless green gravel. As he spread his toes and opened his senses to the Fade, a high pitched screech caught his ears. It was the sound of metal and glass being forced together.

He quickly found his path narrowing and blackened metal walls rising up on all sides of him. Where he could see the black city and the wavescape of the Veil in the distance before, now he could only see blackened metal on all sides. The walls bent in and out at rigid angles, like the maze he walked through was a massive formation of crystal. He placed his hand against a wall as he peered around at an intersection of tunnels, and heard a broken metallic voice chitter outwards. "Andra-...te …. Ma…. we..e…. done for."

He pulled his hand away as the blackness cleared to a mirror finish for a moment, and a maw with thousands of teeth snapped at him from the darkness, striking the surface with a slick thud. He concentrated on the memory of Habrynn in his mind, and dashed forward down the middle path.

*,*,*

"I mean, it's fricken piss, innit?" Sera cursed aloud as she glanced over her left shoulder into the Tear. "Andraste's grace an' all that? It's a whole bunch of people moanin' at you and puttin up with their shite and bootlicking dangle-punchers who want what they want. Even if it's all tits-up, they don't care."

She paused, and nodded her head as if her friend had answered. "Right. Well. My point is, you don't _deserve _this. No one does…. okay, maybe I can think of a few people. But SHIT this is STUPID." She shivered and rubbed her arms for warmth. She looked like one of those bloody Avaars in this big coat, and she was STILL cold! "Arse. Shit. Fucking…. ARSE!" She shouted and stomped her feet.

"Had to be some rot-sucking demon pus bucket! I mean," Sera sniffed, "I figured some rump-worshipping piss-arse would get us killed sometime. But demons. Blegh."

She continued stomping close to the edge of the Veilfire boundary, and continued to rant, "I asked if you could cut the magey crap…. knew all that green shite was no good…"

Sera continued her spew of venom and filth as she made her way around the perimeter, occasionally stopping to chastise the unhearing Inquisitor, or sniffle when no other soldiers were around to comment.

*,*,*

Solas continued through the maze, hearing more than whispers now. The black finish of the halls was peeling everywhere, and curls of black slime dotted the floor. Tarnished mirrors angled in on him in all directions, revealing demons and shades snapped their jaws, and clawing at the surfaces, howling for release.

Solas cursed in Elvhan, arced his hand through the air and for a few moments the glass planes cleared, mirroring his own form in shades of green in all directions. He perked his head up as he heard sobbing in the distant end of one branch of the corridor, and sprinted towards the sound. He slammed full speed into another form racing through the branching tunnels, and they both fell down opposite each other.

When his head stopped spinning, he looked up to see Habrynn staring back at him. Her hair was frayed and a chunk had been pulled out from her left temple, leaving a sticky crusted wound on her head, and half her face smeared with dried blood.

She jerked sideways as a howling screech echoed towards them. "Solas!" She snapped, glancing back to him. "No. I don't want to see you. I don't want to see anyone else-"

"Calm, Lady Adaar," Solas soothed as he got back to his feet. He reached a hand out, but she pushed herself back across the ground.

"No," She whimpered, and closed her eyes.

"There's no time," Solas commanded, "We have to get you away from whatever demon is here with you!"

"No time," Habrynn whispered back, "If you're Solas… might be… Fade Walker… you have to get away. It's not safe. I'm not safe."

Solas reached down to grasp her wrist, but she shoved him away hard. He stumbled backwards, and she scrambled away down a side corridor. Each step step echoed away from her with the sound of fracturing glass as mirrors cracked under her feet.

*,*,*

Cassandra put a hand to her head as her temple pinched with pain. It was a feeling she knew well as a precursor to a surge of magic. She had felt it before the Breach gave way. She had felt it when the Inquisitor had fallen into the Fade at Adamant, and countless times in between.

The pain faded as quickly as it appeared, and Cassandra turned and shouted to any who could hear as she clanged her shield with the flat of her sword.

"BACK AWAY! It's going to expand!"

The Iron Bull heard Cassandra's voice as if it was passing through water. He had been staring down at the molten rock left behind by the last demon he'd slain, lost in his own thoughts. Dawn was still not here, and the long night of patrols and battles was starting to wear on him. As he turned to the Tear, he could see the outer boundary of Veilfire tremble.

Sera glanced up from the opposite side of the Tear. She had been kicking rocks into the veilfire to see them rattle around. As she stopped halfway her foot slid and then stuck in a crevice in the ice.

"SHITE!" Sera yelled.

*,*,*

Solas sprinted through the mirrored tunnels, concentrating on the sound of Habrynn's voice as she stumbled through the dim green light of her personal torment in the Fade. It wasn't until Solas heard his feet splashing in liquid on the floor that he finally slowed enough to look around at the shifting scenery.

The mirrors in this area were mostly shattered, and personal trinkets and disjointed body parts spilled out from behind them. The ground was no longer a pulsating green glow; instead, it was covered in a layer of blood.

"No!" A shout came from his left. "Stop! Why won't you stop?!" He crept along, and heard sloshing, and could see ripples trembling forward from a dim blue light at the end of the corridor.

As he rounded the corner, he almost tripped over a body lying still on the floor. As he stared down at it, he saw his own face looking back with dead, fogged eyes. Half of him had been burned to charred meat, and what was left was slashed and bloody.

As he looked up from the disconcerting sight, he saw blue glowing from the floor where it peeked out from between countless bodies. Most of them seemed to be the Inquisitor's own inner circle, piled on top of themselves again and again, a testament to twistedly creative force that never killed in the same manner twice.

In the middle of the gore and torment, Habrynn stood, now with a new wound scratched down her face, and a chunk of one of her horns broken away. A thin, glowing silhouette with horns like hers seemed to be whispering into her ears. After a moment she growled and struck her hand out to dissipate it, before thrusting her arms down to cast a circle of fire around herself. She slowly backed up, and Solas could see past her, where the cavern expanded and raised up. The entire other side was a single demon. It had uncountable eyes, and tendrils reaching out for her through every crevice it could find.

Even as Solas tried to fix his gaze on it, it's form shifted. Now spider's eyes and mandibles chomping at the air. Now Insectoid bodies trying to rip themselves free of black tar and green bubbling vile liquids.

Habrynn stumbled backwards when she stepped on an arm and it twisted up to grab her. Solas reached forward to give her a hand, and she took his arm. They both stared back at the Nightmare transfixed and shaking, until he found enough courage to shout, "You have to denounce it! You cannot give it power over you!"

Habrynn looked back at him through green, glowing eyes, "You don't understand." Her eyes filled with the green glow, and Veilfire burst out from the ground, moving over the bodies like a hungry swarm. "It is me."

She let his hand go as the Veilfire seeped out from her skin. She muttered something in Qunlat that Solas did not understand, and then she screamed as her body ignited into a white-hot outline and then burst, shattering the cavern and launching Solas backwards as glass and stone shattered in a deafening storm around them.

*,*,*

The Iron Bull ran up to Sera and pulled her up fast.

"O-W! COD-MUNCHER WHAT ARE YOU DOING?" She screeched at him as her foot remained stuck.

"Turn it sideways!" Bull snapped. "Can you slip out of your boot?"

Cassandra ran up to them, clanging her shield to be heard over a slew of profanity from Sera, "Get back!"

Bull stared into the flames a moment, and then twisted to put himself and his axe between Sera and the Veilfire as the boundary spasmed and then blasted outwards. He saw Cassandra get knocked over and absorbed by a gout of cold flames a split second before freezing green energy swallowed up everything around him.

For a moment everything was blisteringly cold. Pain needled through every inch of uncovered skin and the pale color of the Veilfire filled his vision until he couldn't even see his hands in front of him, just the burning Fade that consumed them.


	12. The Cold Sets In

**Author's note **\- Things get worse for our heroes before they get better.

**SPOILERS! **This section of the story takes place after "Here Lies the Abyss" and Before "What Pride Hath Wrought". I've been writing this story under the assumption that you have played the game before. At this point this story diverges heavily from the main plot. A lot of what goes down is extrapolating from a variety of tidbits through all three games that explain the nature of demons, mages, magic, and possession. I took a bit of my own spin in this story, and I'm sure there's some rules I don't know about or just plain get wrong, so please forgive and keep reading.

If you're in this for the smut, I'm sorry that the juicy parts aren't going to be back for a while. Hang in there, romance fans.

**Trigger warning:** Much of the this story deals with anxiety, personal demons, mental anguish, and human misery. I think a lot of why I've written this story is to try and communicate a reflection of my own struggles, but please know I don't write this to make those who are suffering feel worse. Instead, I hope to show that eventually there is a light at the end of the tunnel, it just might take your friends dragging you physically along the train tracks to reach it.

**Please review!** This is my first time ever posting to this site. I've written and drawn other stories, but this sort of blindsided me from nowhere. I'm just hoping others enjoy the story as I try to spin it out of my head.

**LASTLY! I do not own Dragon Age or the characters, nor do I receive compensation for this work.**

* * *

Pain and darkness cut through Habrynn, and then light cut through the darkness, striking together through the Anchor, bisecting her through her left arm. The glow of her veins lit up the permafrost within the tunnel beneath Haven, flickering green against the deep glacial blue before extinguishing with with a roar like a flooding river.

Sweat and blood trailed tiny sparks of warmth down her face as she panted. Soon they too froze on her skin, trails of ice over pulsating rift energy. Terror finally drove her past the pain, squinting into the biting cold of the tunnel as each step announced a new fracture, a new bruise or overextended joint. The Anchor throbbed, surging chaotically inside her, wriggling tendrils of pain working their way through her.

Through the pain, she glimpsed a furious snowstorm, white blinding her senses in every direction. Nothing but the roaring wind for company, nothing but rift energy to warm her. For a moment, a familiar voice called out her name, and then it was silenced, alongside the roaring wind and the sight of a fire in the distance.

The brief glimpse of memory dissolved, and the cold tunnel surrounded her again. After just a few yards, she fell to her knees, hearing her ragged breaths echoing inside the domed chamber between tunnels. In all directions, there was just the far-off whistle of hostile wind and the lonely rasp of her lungs in and out.

"It doesn't have to be like this," The wind crooned. Her mind fought it, tried to remember the voice that had seemed familiar a moment before, but soon she couldn't recall why she was trying to remember anything. She was back in Haven, and she had just fought Corypheus and she was about to die, unknown and unfound in the dark abandoned mine.

Habrynn shook her head, and regretted it as a clenching pain crept over her skull. Her hand came away covered in thick icy blood when she touched her temple, and the memory of her skull striking the trebuchet flashed before her; the archdemon tossing her like a stray sock.

"You can set it aside," Her own voice echoed back.

An electric jab of pain exploded through her right knee as she tried to stand again, and a moment later she watched grey spots bloom in front of her eyes as she stared up at the ceiling.

"Set it aside?" Habynn mused aloud.

"Yes," her voice echoed back, "Set it aside. We can do that."

As soon as she agreed, the pain began to seep away. The grey cleared, and she could see where she was beneath Haven, could see the way out. She stood, tested her leg gingerly, and coaxed herself forward against the chill in her bones. The only pain that didn't evaporate was the Anchor, still sparking in angry swirls up through her wrist. One foot in front of the other, single-mindedly pushing her body forward, she finally came to the exit of the tunnel, and fell against the wall in defeat as she looked out at the gray swirling nothingness of a howling blizzard.

Somewhere, a part of her mind remembered a host of demons biting at her heels, but that thought faded like the ones before, leaving her in the adrenaline-filled present again.

Terror welled up in her stomach, clawing inch by inch through her guts and up her throat until she could hardly breathe. Weakness flowed up her legs and she clenched onto a stray spike in the old mine's reinforcing beam, lest she fall into the cold void. Her midn conjured visions of her companions being struck aside, dead, alive, buried forever, their fates unknown. Tears welled up and froze around her eyes before she could stop herself, and soon she was sobbing. Her chest ached as the soul-emptying sobs wracked through her, until she tumbled into the snow and could not see for the ice and sorrow clumped over her face.

"Set it aside," Her voice whispered over the wind.

"Yes," Habrynn nodded, not needing so much persuasion now. "This can wait." She pressed her hands to her face, ignited warmth through her hands, and immediately regretted it as her stomach protested the withdrawn energy.

When had she eaten last? It felt like ages since she had sat before a fire, enjoying a leg of lamb or even a simple bowl of porridge and greens. Her mouth watered, and suddenly the dry crack of her lips became an acute irritation. She shoveled a handful of snow into her mouth, and coughed as shivers swept through her. She snapped her fingers again and again, but she was empty, and all around her the world was lifeless and devoid of stray mana lines.

For a moment, the snow paused in midair as a thought passed over her mind, like she had seen this before, but had felt a different feeling while seeing the same sight before her eyes.

"You need not hunger," her voice crackled from beneath her. "Desires will only distract you. You must be strong."

Habrynn closed her eyes and nodded, brushing the stray snow from her face, and licking her lips. "I don't need it."

One more snap of her fingers, and a burst of cold blue light shone in her palm. She lifted it, and it hovered over her shoulder as she plodded forward. For hours and hours she strode through the snow, shivering and lighting the globe of light again and again, trying to gain her bearings in the white blur that had long become a dull gray swirl as the day dimmed to night. Only the howl off the cliffs around her filled her ears, and only the silhouettes of unfeeling pine trees kept her company.

She finally stopped in a clearing as flakes spiralled around her, seeing nothing but shadows of trees and the hint of stones under the yard-deep snow to indicate there was more in the world than just herself and endless snow. She let herself fall sideways into the snow, staring into the faint glint of the disturbed ice crystals, and allowed herself a long sigh. Again and again she whispered, "Get up. Get up… you have to keep going." But she was powerless. Her body didn't respond anymore.

She couldn't bring herself to say the obvious, "Or you'll die." She began to wonder if that would be alright. The snowdrift she found herself in seemed suddenly warm against her skin. She had long since stopped shivering. The last magelight she could conjure had died out hours ago, when she could no longer snap her fingers.

"Let go, and you can go on," A deep voice coaxed her, like a blanket laid over her. For a moment she felt a soft pressure brush over her temple.

Habrynn tried to speak, but she was so tired, she couldn't even will her lips to move.

Finally, after a long time laying in the snow, Habrynn simply stood, peering into the gray with ice blue eyes, feeling nothing. She did not even protest as black ice began to form over her fingertips, crackling into forms like wyvern scales, gradually blocking out everything.

*,*,*

Leaves flew in all directions as Sera sat up. "Well," she spat out a leaf. "Not DEAD. That's good, right?"

Broken branches were strewn about. Blinding sunbeams glared into her eyes through a large gap in the canopy above her. She started to grab at her clothing and adjust her quiver, muttering to herself, "Coat gone. That's weird, right? God, I haven't worn plaid in … months. That's alright. Bow? Right. Arrows? Plenty." She leapt up to a crouch and took in her surroundings.

It looked like one of those more obnoxious Orlesian estates. The ones far out from power who grew olives or nuts or some kind of unnecessary delicacy they could slap on banners and bedsheets and silly little wax seals. Little "wild" vines and creeping flowers over manicured boulders pretending to be real nature. Not that Sera much liked real nature anyhow. But _fake _nature? That was the worst. "Ugh," Sera wrinkled her nose. "I've died and gone to Nob heaven. Blegh."

An overgrown gravel pathway lead down a steep decline, and down below her she could see a little girl in a bonnet being chased by a pack of boys. Her bowstring pulled tight in her hands. Sera wasn't normally one for attacking kids, but that weird green hue of their clothes... It just seemed off.

The girl ran past her in a golden blur, as if she didn't even see Sera. The boys shouted profanities at the girl, tossing pinecones her way, oblivious to Sera as well. She turned, lined the shot, let it fly, and one of the boys fell to the ground with fletching sticking up from the back of his neck.

"Eygh," Sera cringed. She'd meant to hit his hat, or near him. Blood trickled over the ground, and then turned green and evaporated as the rest of the boy's body crumble to dark green sand and brushed away like a strong wind had tossed it aside. Her hand twitched, and for a moment it was like she was separated from herself. But it was just a moment, and by the time her mind cleared and the voices grew to a dim whisper again, the other two boys were staring back at her, only now they were just green shadows with eyes like stars.

Sera sneered at them, grumbling as she lined up the next shot. "Ugh. Fricken _Fade_ shit."

With two quick flits of air, two more arrows dispersed them into mist. The little girl had turned to face her from down the path. Her hands clenched the bonnet from her head like a lifeline, revealing wild rosegold hair and two little black stubs of horns at each temple.

Sera gawked and the girl watched back with wary tear-filled eyes. "You," Sera stammered. "Habrynn? But you.. you're all… wee!"

"Haba." She girl sniffed, and wiped her nose with a torn dress sleeve. "I'm Haba."

*,*,*

The world slowly returned to The Iron Bull in rosey colors. As his eyes finally decided to focus, he could make out rippling diaphanous forms overhead. As he sat up, he felt the smooth cool touch of satin underneath him. "This is… not bad," Bull chuckled, taking in the surroundings. He lay in one of many circular rings padded with a multitude of pillows, all spilling over with squirming bodies. A pair of women were enjoying each other just ahead of him, either not noticing or not caring that his gaze fell over their forms pressed against one another.

The great axe on his back wasn't the only uncomfortable lump pressing into his body now. He tore his eyes away with a grunt of regret, and surveyed the rest of the scene laid out around him. Lusty sighs called out in every direction, but he scrambled to his feet and out of the low alcove with all the dignity a man his size could muster while trying to keep his balance on slippery padding. All around him were pockets of debauchery resonating cries of pain and pleasure. Sobs and pleads for attention distracted him at each turn. Once or twice he had to dodge out of the way as a leg twitched out from behind a gossamer curtain, or a hand thrust out to stroke his leg in passing.

"What if this is all that's left?" His mind reeled. "What if you're dead. The Shades, or Corypheus, or that Fade crap killed you." But a part of him rejected it. He felt blood pumping through his clenched fist, and his axe holster was wearing a raw spot against his neck with each hurried step. His internal crisis was cut short by tension around his ankle, and then a quick yank as he was brought to his knees. Hands crept up his arms, and he saw smiling, pliant young creatures gather around him. To his left, a dark skinned elf stroked his hands across his chest. To his right, a freckled crimson-haired human woman winked before grabbing his head for a passionate kiss.

He was glad that his gear had followed him to wherever this was. A layer of twill and some belts were all that separated his uncomfortable erection and the writhing bodies, male and female now pressed against him.

"Look," The Iron Bull sighed. "This is… this is all, let's face it, _amazing_. But I'm kind of in the middle of something-" He was cut off by the press of needy lips on his own again. Unable to help himself, he responded in kind, and his hands moved to her breasts to pinch her nipples forcefully. A cry of pain and pleasure fell from her lips, and a growl of need from his.

As deft fingers began to work their way below his waistband, he growled again, and finally swung his arms to knock the throng aside. Dozens of hungry hands scrambled for purchase as he launched to his feet and barreled through them for an opening. "NO!" He bellowed. "Where am I?" A pressure at his back made him spin and throw out an arm. His Axe swung from it's holster unevenly, as one of the grabbing arms had uncinched his straps. "They were taking my weapon," He thought.

He flared his nostrils and bore his teeth at them as he spun this way and that, keeping their swarming advances at a distance. "Dozens, at least," he thought, "but unnarmed. Poison is likely. Keep my distance, use my feet-"

"Is this not what you desire?" A deep familiar voice asked from behind the swarm of bodies. They all paused as the woman spoke, and all looked at him intently, with unblinking eyes frozen in various states of excitement. He shoved through them, pushing them aside with ease now that they were suddenly docile. A peek of golden skin, and then a hint of rose gold, and as he pressed through the last of them he saw her standing before him with little more than a smile and an artfully knotted together bundle of ribbons some Orlesian fashion designer might call a "negligee".

"Habrynn?" The Iron Bull stammered.

She tilted her head up to look at him with eyes like embers piercing a dark night. "If that is what you desire," She purred.

*,*,*

Cassandra grunted and pressed a hand to her side. "Not broken," She thought. Her fingers moved up, pressed again, and repeated in a few more key spots, testing her injuries. With a long exhale, she repeated aloud, "No broken ribs. Must have just landed on-" Her words faded away as she finally looked up to take in her surroundings. "Maker preserve me," She whispered. Her voice echoed down the radial passageways until it was lost in bones and dusty burial shrouds.

All around her humanoid bones filled the room. It was easily forty feet across and just as high. The whole crypt seemed to be formed of steps. Grooves reiterated the forms on the walls and floor and ceiling. In the dim grey light she could see cobwebs here and there, but compared to her travels through real catacombs and her time with her Mortalitasi uncle, it did not seem like the right amount. It felt like a picture drawn from the idea of a crypt, not reality.

Cassandra flexed her sword hand, and shook it to ease the sore muscles from where she had landed on her side, pinning her own arm. Half her body ached and cried out in a multitude of tiny demands. Amidst the crying nerves one sense finally rose to be heard above simpler pains.

"Magic," It whispered. She listened intently with a hand to her sword hilt. As she let her senses spread around her, she could feel the familiar pinch of energy. "It's like… a rift?" Cassandra wondered. With no better ideas presenting themselves, she carefully worked her way through the bone pile and began to navigate the catacombs, following the tendril of magic.

At first, the sensation was just a tickle in her mind, like a gnat buzzing around you on a hot day that you can't catch. The tickle grew to a note in her mind, like a single harp string plucked and resonating on and on. The clink of metal hitting metal drew her attention. Her boot connected with a dagger on the ground as she walked. The bones were less scattered here, the remains formed distinct skeletons, with their armor and weapons. It was like a great battle had waged through the crypts and passageways, and had simply been left to decay without any attendants.

"No Mortalitasi would accept this," She found herself chuckling despite her circumstance. As she sniffed, the realization suddenly dawned on her. "There's no smell." In her time as her uncle's ward, she had seen many dead bodies. Loved ones would be wrapped in fine linen and dabbed with strong oils so the acrid rot of life's end was covered over with rose, amaranth or sandalwood. Even the poorest would wrap their dead with pine boughs and sweet grass. Even after a thousand years, dust and dry bone matter had a smell about it. Normally, this much disturbance to the dead would have filled the air with a hundred overpowering odors. But here, there was nothing but clear, lifeless air.

A far-off groan echoed into the silence, and Cassandra pointed her senses back into her hunt.

*,*,*

A bright flash hit Solas, and shards of glass blossomed into lancing pains through his side. When the glare of energy had cleared and the pain dulled enough for him to move, he sprang to his feet. He immediately regretted his haste as red dots of blood dribbled over the dark green stonework beneath him. "The fade," He breathed. "Is much easier to handle when it is less tangible, as it is meant to be."

Solas pressed a scoop of fade energy from around him into his hand, and chanted quietly to himself. A soft pulsing glow and warmth filled his hand, and he pressed the mixture to his side like a poultice. Green energy rippled over him a few times, and his breathing slowed. He crouched for a long moment bracing his staff across his knees. It had been a long time since the Fade had injured him. The pain and the fact that he had not been expelled back to his own body were both troubling, but there was nothing he could do about it if he did not get a clear picture of the situation.

When he finally stood up after most of the injuries had knit enough to manage, he was greeted by a much clearer picture than he had expected. He stood on a rocky outcropping of dark jade overlooking a convoluted mass of rock, glass and mirrors that stretched out for what seemed like miles in every direction. Where he perched touched a core globe only tangentially, but other amorphous formations sprung from the core like branching deathvine.

Here and there glints of light flickered from the massive structure. Blue and violet here, then orange and red and even golden amber winked out from cracks in the fade-rock. "Perhaps," He pondered, "I _was_ expelled, but not completely…?" At first he sprinted, but the stitch in his side quickly reminded him that he _was_ still injured, despite his rift abilities. Begrudgingly, he walked as fast as he could and began to ascend the side of the main globe. gravity seemed to shift as he turned, and he found his feet planted firmly to any surface he traveled on. It was a convenient if disorienting feature of Habrynn's fade space, and he used it to his advantage as he traveled into the shadow of the sphere to investigate his theory. It took a few minutes to chip away and melt the surface with conjured flames, but finally he was able to make a small window for himself to look inside the geode, to see what crystals lay inside.

But the cold blue light that poured out as he looked was the last thing he hoped to see. "No," He cursed. "Adaar would never accept this!"

Inside the sphere was a pitch black void with a single spot of light, illuminated cold blue from the center. Small platforms and winding impossible causeways lead up to a single cliff floating in the void, upon which perched a single Pride demon, fending off tendrils of the nightmare that pulled at it in all directions. The demon threw back it's arms and screeched, shaking the whole Fade-space with its cry of supremacy.


	13. Lure of the Void

**Author's note **\- Things get worse for our heroes before they get better.

**SPOILERS! **This section of the story takes place after "Here Lies the Abyss" and Before "What Pride Hath Wrought". I've been writing this story under the assumption that you have played the game before. At this point this story diverges heavily from the main plot. A lot of what goes down is extrapolating from a variety of tidbits through all three games that explain the nature of demons, mages, magic, and possession. I took a bit of my own spin in this story, and I'm sure there's some rules I don't know about or just plain get wrong, so please forgive and keep reading.

If you're in this for the smut, I'm sorry that the juicy parts aren't going to be back for a while. Hang in there, romance fans.

**Trigger warning:** Much of the this story deals with anxiety, personal demons, mental anguish, and human misery. I think a lot of why I've written this story is to try and communicate a reflection of my own struggles, but please know I don't write this to make those who are suffering feel worse. Instead, I hope to show that eventually there is a light at the end of the tunnel, it just might take your friends dragging you physically along the train tracks to reach it.

**Please review!** This is my first time ever posting to this site. I've written and drawn other stories, but this sort of blindsided me from nowhere. I'm just hoping others enjoy the story as I try to spin it out of my head.

**LASTLY! I do not own Dragon Age or the characters, nor do I receive compensation for this work.**

* * *

The Iron Bull watched the creature carefully. That was what he was calling the woman in his mind for now, "Creature." It felt like a betrayal to call it Boss, or Inquisitor, or Habrynn. But it took Habrynn's form with amazing accuracy. There was that nick above her left eyebrow that most people didn't notice. Just a glint of poorly meshed skin that most people would think it was just ill-applied makeup, or a trick of the light. But he had felt it before, and found himself reaching out to her face to touch it again.

She closed her eyes and sighed in pleasure as he put his hand to her face. "She feels so good," He thought. Smooth skin, but polished and strong as only the Qunari felt. He gripped her hair and pulled her closer to him. She was warm, and as he placed his other hand to her horn he drew her scent into him with a deep inhale. Sulfur, and gravel, and… was that roses?

The Iron Bull tossed her from him and growled, "What is this, demon?"

The demon-Habrynn stumbled a few steps, and then stood tall and looked back at him with a sniff and slight sneer, before her expression returned to a passionate smirk. "I can _be _her. I can be what you _want. _I can be what you _need_." Breasts and needy hands pressed against his chest as the demon coaxed its flesh into the crevices of his own. A warm puff of air played against his ear as it leaned up to whisper, "_Every _desire. No watchwords. No limits."

The Iron Bull gritted his teeth, hating the way his hard-on didn't agree with his Ben-Hassrath training. "Is that so?" He murmurred. He dragged his fingernails up the creature's thighs, tracing the hips and feeling the strips of her outfit pull tight as his hands snagged them in passage. A part of himself wanted this right now, wanted to topple her to the ground or press her to the pillars and just let the animal win.

He inhaled again. Sulphur had become warm granite, and chalk and parchment. It was more _her_. "... Bull!" A far-off cry echoed towards him.

"Not a her," He reminded himself through the red haze of instinct. "It's an _IT_. It's a demon." As his hands reached up to the demon's head again, they gripped the horns molded to seem so much like Habrynns.

"...B...ull… Bull? Is that you?" A woman's voice echoed from closer now. Footsteps echoed against the stonework around him.

He shoved the demon away roughly. It glared back at him with pointed teeth and cold black eyes that had lost their fiery glow. It swung a hand out, raking his skin with it's claws before he brought it to the ground under his knee, and twisted, and felt the neck snap under his strong hands in one movement. He drew his Axe from his back and watched as Habrynn's form dissolved into a contorted pink figure with a tail and an assortment of golden trinkets that left far too little to the imagination.

"Demons," He shivered, "I HATE demons."

He spun around to face the horde of sensual bodies and stumbled in mid-swing as the room of satin-lined pits had changed to a long hallway lined with curtained-off alcoves.

"This again…" He heard a familiar voice echo from the distance. He could just make out a beam of light crossing the end passageway. The hallway seemed like Skyhold's brickwork, but from behind the curtains he heard soft moans and a variety of sensual affirmations. His curiosity got the better of him, and he pushed one aside to see what attackers might be there. He stared for a moment, and tilted his head. When the two participants continued to ignore him, he slowly shut the curtain and adjusted his pants.

"I'm going to have to take some time off to get this out of my system when I'm done," Bull growled. The image of Sera and Vivienne making love and not war was burned into his brain, and would be for a while. As he tilted his head to each curtain as he passed, he recognized voices now. Here Cullen and Lieutenant Harding. The next alcove sounded like Blackwall and Josephine, and was that Cassandra reading poetry?

He couldn't say he hadn't imagined such things himself, but to hear and know it was playing out in risque details all around him was disconcerting, to say the least. Part of him wanted to know what sort of acts Sera was perpetrating in the overwhelming number of alcoves he heard her in. Another part of himself felt small and unsettled when he heard his own voice dominating unknown partners.

A tired sigh echoed down the hallway from the open air, and drew him out of his thoughts. He hurried past the distracting sideshow and was glad to find himself in Skyhold's empty great hall. He had never seen it devoid of people. The place was enormous when Orlesian courtiers and refugees weren't ambling about. At the far end, stood the Inquisition's throne, and another Habrynn lookalike, tapping her foot as she contemplated it.

"Why?" She muttered.

He clenched his hands to his greataxe, and inhaled slowly. It was hard, as the world played out fantastical desires around him, to focus on anything, but if he had to kill a hundred demon versions of Habrynn, then so be it.

"There's always a throne here. The damn demon goes on about 'what I want' and 'what I desire.' But I do NOT want that thing!" She snarled, tossed the throne over, and snapped a leg. She demolished the imposing furniture into kindling in a whirlwind of sobbing and noise. All that was left as Bull hesitantly approached was a pile of splinters and torn fabric.

"Aban-ataash .. Mash-EV*!" She spat, chuckling as she turned to face him and tossed the demolished leg into the pile with the rest of the shattered chair. "First time she's sent a version of Bull who isn't trying to seduce me."

Wiping tears from her eyes, she laughed, "You're not doing a good job. I can smell you, demon. A bit of dried blood isn't going to convince me that the Sulphur isn't you… just… wait." She continued, sniffing in his direction.

Bull slowly removed his hand from his axe hilt, and looked her up and down. As disheveled as she was, wearing nothing more than a bedsheet tied around herself, she was remarkably like Habrynn. The biggest difference her blood-red hair and a complexion more pink and warm-hued that the woman he knew. "Habrynn...can't be," Bull breathed, "What the hell is wrong with you?"

"Wrong with me?" She laughed maniacally. "I can feel EVERYTHING!" She pointed to the hallway he'd come from. "All the crazy sex dreams," and then up to the ceiling, "All the bloody faith and belief everyone stacks on me." She spun and flicked her hands at the floor, "Uneven boards, a hangnail in my little finger. Cold… creeping in like needles under my skin..."

"It's too much," She gasped. With two long steps she bridged the gap between them, and glared up at him as she inhaled deeply. "and… your smell… my GOD. You smell amazing… you smell like HIM."

Bull floundered as she pressed herself against him. Not in the convincing way that the earlier demon had, but in a distracted, affectionate way like a house cat. "I can hear your heartbeat," She muttered as she rubbed her cheek into his bare chest.

And he realized that he could hear hers at well. "Habrynn, look, I don't know-"

"Embrim." She muttered.

"What?"

"It's Embrim," She murmurred. "Habrynn… isn't Habrynn here… but you… you're really The Iron Bull, aren't you?"

"I… uh… yes?" Bull responded. His arms had slowly been closing around her, against his best intentions. As he almost touched her shoulder, she pushed away. Her eyes darted about madly, and a trickle of dust fell from the ceiling.

"Ugh. This again," Embrim cursed as the building began to tremble.

*,*,*

Sera stomped through the underbrush as Haba scampered around her, crawling over rocks and sliding down boulders with the energy only a young child had. Everything had taken on a golden cast after she'd punctured the obnoxious boy… demon… spirit… FADE THING that had come after Haba.

"I don't get with any of this magic junk," Sera grumbled, "You know that, right?"

"Ah-huh," Haba chuckled. "But you're here."

Sera stomped and threw up her arms, "What bloody place is HERE?"

Haba looked around them. Somehow the steep ravine and the vine-covered boulders had broken away to a neat kitchen garden. Haba stopped looking at Sera and gazed over at the plants. "I remember Thyme, and Everlinne, and Hopsbloom, and Rosemary…"

Sera could smell them, as if feeling a bit of her memory. It smelled delicious. A bloom of happiness swelled in her, and then a dragging yank of sorrow emptied her out. Around them the garden had shifted, and worn marble blocks formed a doorway, and more formed a small half cottage off to the side. It was like a stage, where everything was only half built. Halfwalls that framed little spaces where ordinary looking objects were frozen in cold shadows.

"This sure isn't _my_ memories…" Sera murmurred. "My memories don't smell this nice."

Haba shook her head. "I grew up here. Chateau de Évreux en Emanse. I was a scullion. My Mema was the Nurse and Tutor for all Lord Rosmont's children."

"A little froggy servant?" Sera snickered, "I never! I mean, you've got no accent, and you've never acted like a noble _anything_." With a chuckling sigh she inhaled again, and caught a more sugary scent that turned her stomach. "Do you remember?" Sera stammered. "What I told you about cookies?"

Haba's eyes went wide with recognition as she furtively started coiling her hair around her fingers. "Yeah, about The Lady Emmauld and how she couldn't have kids, and was a liar and a jerk. That part?"

"Yeah. _That_ bitch," Sera snapped.

"I'm sorry you hate cookies," Haba replied sheepishly.

Haba reached out and grasped Sera's hand. The little version of Habrynn was just as warm as Sera remembered her older self being. Like sun-warmed stone. Sera glanced away as she tried to block the smell of baking from her mind. It was difficult, though. It was like the smell weaseled into her head through her nose, filling her with an angry, itching dread like bees in her stomach.

Haba squeezed her hand and watched her intently. Sera closed her eyes and shook her head, but the dark staring back behind her eyes hurt worse, and the void tried to look back into her. Instead, she sneered up at at the sky that grew darker as the wild forest sprouted slivers of Orlesian architecture around them. Sera tugged her hand away and sighed. "Stupid pride cookies-"

Sera was knocked back by the force of Haba launching at her with a hug. The young girl's face was buried in Sera's chest, and her arms wrapped around her and squeezed with the ferocity of prepubescent empathy. "We can make cookies!" Haba muffled into Sera's clothes.

Sera's frown twitched with mixed feelings until it settled on a worried smirk. For an awkward moment, Sera's arms wobbled over Haba's head, unsure what to do. Haba's bearcub hug loosened, and she glanced up at Sera, "I worked in the kitchens for years! I know how to make cookies! All kinds of cookies!I can teach you! They're not pride cookies, they're lemon!"

Sera sniffled, "You're… you're too darn cute. C'mere lil' froggy." She wrapped her arms over Haba's shoulders and squeezed and then began to spin around until Haba dizzily stumbled out of the hug. Sera tugged her back to her feet, and held Haba's arm back as she tried to retrieve her bonnet from the ground.

"Leave it, yea?" Sera smirked, brushing tears of laughter from her eyes. "You look cute."

Haba gaped at her open-mouthed, and then smiled and blushed. All around them, golden leaves started to skitter across the ground as a wind picked up. "Do you hear that?" Haba murmurred.

Sera did. It was a quiet chime she still remembered from a part of the Fade she hoped to never return to.

"Tch," Sera cursed, "That's the sound that a memory makes."

*,*,*

Solas couldn't strike the Pride demon head on, and if his hunch was correct, he didn't want to. The demon was unique. It was smaller, more compact and wholley more organized than the average demon of its kind. It was almost like the form of pride armored over someone.

The polished projections like lapis lazuli crowning it's head reminded him too much of Adaar's horns for his liking. The demon did not rumble with an indistinct laugh, quite the opposite, it hardly made a sound, simply struck the Nightmare as it came towards it, slicing or knocking aside each progression with a pinpoint strike of it's whip.

As Solas watched the scene longer, he began to see the lines of energy that charged that space splitting out into a triangle that was lost in the Fade rock towards the edges. Glancing back out to his surroundings, he could see the coral projections mimicking that symmetry around him.

"A barrier field," Solas gaped. "Then there's hope." He recalled another pride demon he had been forced to kill, who also overtook a friend of his. But that friend was a spirit, and they could not sustain the reaction twice. Perhaps if Habrynn's soul was bound to the pride demon, it could be salvaged.

Solas put his weight against his staff and began to limp along the winding rock faces, here and there marking a waypoint in glowing fade magic as he went along, to chart Habrynn's mindscape.

*,*,*

A crackle of dried liquid flaked off under Cassandra's boot. She lifted it up, and followed the line to it's source. Dried mummified corpses had given way to younger dehydrated corpses, with dried blood pooling out in spidery patterns around them. She steeled herself and stepped over the man, beginning to keep track of what Heraldry she could recognize on their tattered tunics and scattered shields.

It seemed to be a mixture of Orlesian houses, Nevarran, and western Fereldan. That did not say much, but as she stepped into a fresher patch of blood, she looked up to find much more recognizable forms leading up to a wide flat altar. A solitary woman lay on the hard smooth surface, illuminated only by a few torches scattered about the room. Cassandra could see a mage's staff toppled from the altar with Habrynn's signature Fire Opal fittings, and as she worked her way over bodies growing fresher and more bloody, she could make out the black horns pointing back from her face.

"Inquisitor!" Cassandra shouted. Her foot stuck and then was wrested from under her, making her fall over and splash onto a bloody form beneath her. As she scrambled to gain purchase again, she looked into the charred remains of an elf and a middle-aged man.

"Adan… Minaeve," she whispered. Stacked up and all directions were men and women she recognized. Fallen soldiers of Haven. Villagers they had been too late to save. Countless lyrium-corrupted mages stuck in expressions of hatred and agony.

Cassandra yanked the shield from her back, fitted it properly and drew her sword into the air. "I know what you are!" She shouted, "Come out, demon!" Her battle cry echoed pitifully into the air, swallowed up by the gruesome scene around her. She declared again, "Show yourself!" And was finally met by a rumbling laugh that seemed to resonate from the walls itself.

"You make demands of _me_?" It drawled with a tired masculine voice, and then yawned like an earthquake in slow motion. "You do not understand your _place_."

* * *

_*Aban-ataash .. Mash-EV - in rough Qunlat - "I hope a sea-serpent eats me."_


	14. Running and Progress

**Author's note **\- Things get worse for our heroes before they get better.

**SPOILERS! **This section of the story takes place after "Here Lies the Abyss" and Before "What Pride Hath Wrought". I've been writing this story under the assumption that you have played the game before. At this point this story diverges heavily from the main plot. A lot of what goes down is extrapolating from a variety of tidbits through all three games that explain the nature of demons, mages, magic, and possession. I took a bit of my own spin in this story, and I'm sure there's some rules I don't know about or just plain get wrong, so please forgive and keep reading.

If you're in this for the smut, I'm sorry that the juicy parts aren't going to be back for a while. Hang in there, romance fans.

**Trigger warning:** Much of the this story deals with anxiety, personal demons, mental anguish, and human misery. I think a lot of why I've written this story is to try and communicate a reflection of my own struggles, but please know I don't write this to make those who are suffering feel worse. Instead, I hope to show that eventually there is a light at the end of the tunnel, it just might take your friends dragging you physically along the train tracks to reach it.

**Please review!** This is my first time ever posting to this site. I've written and drawn other stories, but this sort of blindsided me from nowhere. I'm just hoping others enjoy the story as I try to spin it out of my head.

**LASTLY! I do not own Dragon Age or the characters, nor do I receive compensation for this work.**

* * *

"NO!" Haba screeched back at Sera as the older elf tugged her along.

"See? THIS. This is why I never want to make babies," Sera grumbled, and continued to drag the protesting young girl deeper into the shadowed parts of her Fade realm.

"Look, Tadwinks," Sera turned around to shake Haba by the shoulders. "Tell me this is all fine and dandy, huh?"

Haba stopped protesting for a moment to sniffle. "I'm not a 'Tadwinks'!"

Sera rolled her eyes, "Ugh, Habrynn, You're no fun."

"It's Haba!"

"Right," Sera quipped. "Tadwinks."

Haba scrunched her nose, but continued, "I know it's not _real_, but it's _like_ my home! And I know I can't _go _home!"

Before Sera could point out just how weird that sentence was, a metallic voice echoed high above them, "Where is that little brat?" The trees seemed to rustle alongside the voice as it drew nearer and further away in turn, like the sky was searching for them. The keening metallic sound continued, and warped into a difference voice, crying back, "You'll not harm my daughter! Speak for your own children's crimes!"

"Mema," Haba whispered, looking to the sky for understanding.

Sera shook her again, and hissed, "Listen. Do you hear it? Like a wind chime, but under water?"

Haba nodded, and then pointed down a dirt pathway that was little more than a worn-in patch between two bushes. The kind of traill children made between the places they were allowed to go and the places no one thought to put off limits. As Haba pointed, the sound lowered in tone, and a faint emerald glow peeked out of the shadows of the underbrush.

With a shove of encouragement from Sera, Haba tiptoed forward, frantically looking back to Sera for reassurance, like someone being sent to catch a cornered creature. A sharp squint finally persuaded Haba, and she crept under the boughs, and the glow burst forth around them both.

In the memory, Haba was walking down a dirt pathway. Her bonnet and apron were almost pristine, and she held two books to her chest, leaned back and tottering under the weight of them. Screams of delighted cruelty erupted from all sides as a group of boys burst out of the bushes around her, knocking the books away and shoving her to the ground. They called out names and screeched insults too fast for words to be understood, and spit on her before they strutted away, congratulating each other.

Haba was ran, stumbling while she carried the dirty broken books, and tried to wipe mud from her face with an equally dirty hand. A Qunari woman with hair like flames and dark skin held her arms out, and hugged her tight. A Qunari man with golden hair and skin pat her head and took the books from her, and began to leaf through them carefully and clean them. They all sat together in a little Cottage barely big enough for a fireplace, bed, and desk. The woman mended the clothes, and the man mended the books, and Haba scrubbed herself with a cloth by the fire as a baby lay in a cradle tucked between her and the bed.

Light danced at the edges of Sera's vision and burst into a blinding flash before the cold dismal forest ruins returned around them both. In the brush, Haba was standing still as an emaciated hand reached towards her with cold mist unfurling from them both.

With a snap, Sera struck through the wraith with one arrow, and then another, and it hissed and shot away like a snake, rustling underbrush in it's dash to escape. Sera breathed quickly, and felt the tension in her chest ease a little. "Well… see… that wasn't so bad… right?" She stammered.

Haba sobbed back at her with terror in her eyes, "I don't want these memories back!"

*,*,*

Solas slipped and tumbled down a craggy slope as the structure around him shifted in an instant. A surge of pain burst out from his shoulder and ribs as the knitted magic gave way for a moment. As he concentrated on subduing the injury again, he looked around at his new surroundings. The branching structure had collapsed inwards, as if the furthest out sections were spiralling back towards the core. Though the tumble had been painful, he had landed next to an outcropping covered in arcane script he knew all too well.

With a few moments of concentration and a stamp of his staff, he pulled the fade around itself to dispel the energy fixing the barrier in place. "It's progress," Solas thought as he watched the rock crumble. The pieces floated as they fell away, carrying a pale green spark with them that burst into a plume of veilfire.

"Leave!" Habrynn's voice echoed through the stone, "Before I hurt you too!" As fast as the veilfire had ignited, it dissipated again.

Slowly the pieces pull themselves back together, fusing into one form against with thin flashes of light until no crack remained.

"That voice?" Solas muttered. "But, it can't be. That would mean that Adaar herself set these boundaries… no." Solas spat, "She's done this to herself? It's madness to split yourself this way! Even if it bought you time, the repercussions would be worse than the aid it brought-"

A memory shot through Solas's mind. The backdrop and the actors were unfamiliar, but the lead role was instantly recognizable, even in her young form.

"That must have been Adaar's memory… and the veilfire…" Solas mumbled, glancing at the Fade around him for some answer. "I think I see the connection now." When he looked back to the barrier stone he was trying to weaken, he could see now that it was not quite the same as before he had made the attempt.

"Then _it is_ progress." Solas nodded in agreement with himself, "This can be fixed from the inside. I just have to trust that the others will do their best for her as well." Solas looked down into a crystalline crevasse below him, where Cassandra struggle reflected back.

*,*,*

Decayed limbs rose up all around Cassandra. Sightless sockets and milky dead eyes glared back at her as the dead awoke around her with moans of protest. She slammed her shield into the first, and stomped the next into the pile and climbed forward, keeping her sights on the pedestal where the Inquisitor lay. She had read Habrynn's reports of Therinfal Redoubt, and recognized Habrynn's nightmare taking form around her. Cassandra's skin crawled constantly now with the aura of a high demon prickling over her senses. Whatever roadblocks rose before her, she knew in her gut that she needed to reach the Inquisitor more than anything.

A blood-slick hand grabbed her ankle, and then another clutched at her knee. The slain clawed her armor and dragged her into their fold hungrily. Her sword sliced through jellied flesh and sang as it knocked back oxidized armor. With each step she pressed back flesh and stomped the corpses back into their illusory graves, and then began again with the next step, fighting for each approaching inch.

"Inquisitor!" Cassandra yelled. A strike from the side buffeted her helm, and she fell hard onto a templar glowing red. Spittle flew against her cheek as the man cried out in tongues at her, clutching at her with smoldering hands and scowling with eyes and veins pulsing with blighted energy. With a righteous cry Cassandra plunged her sword through his chest, and the evil glow subsided. Her cry grew and extended, and she shouted with all her breath into the horde, feeling her fury condense around her in a blast of white-hot light. Energy pulsed out, knocking back the nearest greedy corpses, and the afterglow of her holy circle glinted in the air, giving the pausing the remaining onslaught in all directions.

Leaping to the stone altar, she tumbled and glanced back before lifting herself up to the higher slab. Cassandra was not expecting the Inquisitor to seem so old and frail when she reached her. Her body was bleached and shrivelled, clothed all in white like someone given their last rights for internment. Even her hair had bleached to white, and flowed out around her like she had been here for years. Dust caked the slab like a fine gray snow. For a moment she despaired, until she saw a puff of dust as the woman breathed long and slow.

"Inquisitor," Cassandra pleaded, now that she could see the telltale yellow hint in her skin, and the lightly sloped long black horns. Despite the wrinkles, the sunken face and the gaunt frame, she could feel the connection deep in her soul. "Habrynn," She repeated more softly.

The old woman opened milky blind eyes and stared past Cassandra. "Who... is Habrynn?"

*,*,*

The tremors had grown to a loud rumble descending from all sides. "Crouch there," Embrim commanded, pointing down at her feet. "You're not going to like this," She smirked, "But I'll keep you safe."

For a moment, the vibrations and the sound stopped, and then the walls burst open, and People streamed in from all sides. Lyrium-enraged Mages, Red Templars, dark-eyed Wardens and even some of their own guards charged at them. Embrim swooped her arm to the side, and then slammed both hands to the ground launching a barrier out in all directions from them. The wave of bodies slammed into them, and piled against the boundaries of the dome in the press, blocking out the light around them bit by bit.

Embrim pressed up to him, gritting her teeth and counting under her breath, "Two… three… four…" There was a heavy slam as another wave crushed into the pile, and their small world under the barrier became dark and suffocating as the last light was blocked. A short sob caught in Embrim's throat, before she continued, "Six… seven."

"What the hell now?" Bull snapped.

"Shh… nine-" She whispered. A final crushing crack of weight, and she breathed, "-Ten."

As Embrim rose to her feet, the barrier expanded outward, and The Iron Bull was blinded as it instantly changed to an explosive nova of fire that launched the piled bodies, incinerating them into a cloud of ash.

The ash disappeared like a mist, and even the ring of char on the floor faded as if the fire and the onslaught had never happened. Embrim panted and wiped sweat from her brow. Bull stood just in time to steady her as she wobbled. He shivered off the fear before he finally found his voice again to ask, "How often does THAT happen?"

Embrim shook her head wearily as she clutched her temples. "Every hour or so? What's an hour in the Fade. I feel like I'm been here for months-"

A loud crack rocked them, and he caught her again as she almost fell from exhaustion. A low rumbling traced it's way around the perimeter of the room.

"That's... new," Embrim muttered.

"Any Man! Any Woman!" a frantic, resonate voice hissed from behind them. The demon stood astride the fully reformed Inquisition throne. She did not even try to take Habrynn's form. She smiled too wide, and jostled in her seat as she spoke, like she was rushed. "You could take anyone to your bed! Defeat any enemy! Even Corypheus would-" Her words were swallowed up by a targeted lance of fire that left corrosive blood splattered across everything, and a smoldering circular hole through the back of the seat.

"I. Hate. That. Seat." Embrim hissed. She eased herself back to her own feet just in time to be knocked to the ground as the roof collapsed onto the throne and the whole hall was shaken with one deafening impact. From the hole left behind a giant slitted eye stared back at them both, then blinked the inner and outer lids at them as it's anger reverberated through the stonework.

"RUN!" Embrim shouted, and Bull didn't bother to question as she dashed out a new hallway. Fires licked at their heels, already engulfing the Main hall and blasting down the tunnel behind them, launching them through the next doorway out into a mosaic tile street.

Octagonal spires rose up in the distance, and a smooth geometric city of colorful repeated tilework sprawled out around them. Qunari were frozen mid-task all around them. Bakers held perfect loaves aloft to the awaiting hands of content looking men and women. Masons' hammers hovered inches away from the next strike on a series of stone blocks. A line of soldiers feet were all poised above the ground in a coordinated march.

"Where-?" Embrim asked.

"Par Vollen," Bull sighed. "This is my baggage. Come on, we should go-" He gently put his fingers around her arm and tugged, but she pulled back to take in the still reflection of the city around them.

"You know…" she pondered while aimlessly sauntering around the the plaza they'd found themselves in. "I gave you no end of grief about the Qun, but when I was alone, I couldn't shake this… awe. I imagined what it would have been like to be born into this life instead. To let go of my responsibilities, and just be told what to do…"

The Iron Bull frowned back at her, "Oh, I'm not surprised at all. I know what you're really like. I've seen how you respond to _commands_."

Embrim smiled back at him seductively, and for a moment Bull glimpsed another life where they might have been paired for no more than a night of emotionless passion. Bull shook his head and whispered, "but you could never have lived that life _Saarebas_."

Embrim's smile collapsed as the sky began to crack. Shards of blue and white rained down like the heavens were just another mosaic. People around them burst into motion and frantically dived for cover as the towers fell and buildings crushed their inhabitants under their weight.

A bellow of anger ripped out where the same slitted eye from before glared in at them, now with a scaley snout and horn visible through the hole above them.

"Ataashi!" Bull growled. It wasn't even as large as the one they had taken down together in the Hinterlands! The fire in his blood began to spark, but Embrim grabbed at his armor and dragged him against the flow of the crowd.

"Just RUN!" She cried. He could hear the fear in her voice. The beast was oblivion, or it was her captor. He couldn't tell yet, but he could see in her panicked expression that she knew it well.

Every visage of his old life crashed down around them as a clawed reptilian foot smashed the neighboring building, launching stones and bolts of fabric out in all directions. Blood trickled down their arms and faces as shrapnel shot through the air.

"Why don't we fight it?!" Bull snarled.

Embrim ducked a burst of splinters as a tower of crates was crushed beside them. "You don't understand! I want to BE that dragon!" She hissed with a manic smile stretched over her face. "All power! No responsibility! No control! No feelings! Just bliss and freedom! There's no WAY I'm letting a damn demon take me over by giving me that!"

Bull grunted, "Okay. Maybe you have a point." And he thought to himself, "_Vashedan_ that sounds _hot_. I can't blame her-" Bull continued, "Then why not just kill it? This is YOUR fade, right?"

Cries of dismay and crashing anarchy rained down around them until they gripped a door handle tight and leapt through a riveted timber door that felt completely out of place amidst the fine stonework of the Qun.

The carnage of Par Vollen slammed to a halt as they passed over the threshold, and Embrim yelled, "I TRIED!" And then softened as quiet enveloped them, "I couldn't beat it."

"Yeah, but you didn't have ME before-" Bull stopped as a child's cry cut through the air. As he looked to see where it came from, Bull and Embrim both found themselves enthralled.

*,*,*

Haba and Sera ran full tilt through an empty library and crashed through a tea service set up in a waiting room off to the side. They both clutched each other as they crouched low amidst shattered gilded china. Behind them floorboards creaked and groaned as something that breathed like a wolf but bore the silhouette of a man stalked through the hallways of her memories.

"It's Lord Rosmont Évreaux," Haba whispered as she quaked against Sera's arm. Sera ignored her as she listened for the Shade to finally pass by. For a few long moments, neither one breathed while the long panting breaths of the human-shaped creature finally lost track of them.

Haba was still shaking as Sera pried her loose and held her at arms length. Though she had grown a little since the first memory was opened, she still had the mannerisms of a young child. "Listen," Sera hissed, "If I know one thing, it's that you can't let the Fade know you're scared. Scared gets the Fade all bitey. Lock it up, right?"

Haba sniffed snot back up her nose and drew a cross over her heart with her finger. "Locked up…" She whispered. In the silence, they could hear the soft chiming song from the Fade, humming through the floorboards. They followed it's trail through an immaculate library that towered over their heads like a forest, and through hallways of tiny golden trinkets on pedestals that seemed to encroach closer as they walked, urging them to break everything and lure their pursuer onto their trail again.

"You know it isn't him, right?" Sera griped.

Haba only nodded. "But he's scary like the real 'him'."

"Pff. I'm scary. He's all wind and Fade shit. Arrow didn't take him down just means we gotta be smarter than him. He showed up after that first memory, yah? Means they're important. Means we should take back more a' them."

Haba nodded and tugged Sera back as they passed a small, simple wooden doorway into a sunlit side room. A dozen tiny desks were arranged in rows around a stool, where another emerald orb sang and swirled with motes of light. Sera nodded to it and Haba hesitantly approached. Haba pulled her hand back, but Sera shoved her forward and light flew out in all directions.

Haba's Mema was furiously shouting at a older, portly human woman in servant's garb, as the Lord watched with growing frustration. In the memory, Haba flinched as the boys who had picked on her were struck with canes in front of her. As she tried to turn away, the Lord pulled her face to watch.

The Estate garden was a blur around Haba as she ran as fast as she could around the outer wall. Curses of 'cow girl!' and 'tattletale!' and 'mud-foot!' screeched out behind her. The boys were bigger and older and were catching up fast, until a young man with a fair complexion grabbed her arm and tugged her into a crevice of the building and chuckled as the boys went by.

He looked over her head as they ran past, and whispered, "You're the Matron's daughter, right? I'm Julian."

Haba craned her head around to look at him, and asked, "Lord Évreaux's son?"

The boys doubled back and found them, but their faces went pale at the sight of the young man, and they muttered apologies and ran away as if they had already been struck by canes again. Haba just blinked back at them as Julian kept his hands on her shoulders reassuringly.

The memory burst around them both in a blast of warmth that lit the room like sunlight for a moment, until it returned to the azure gloom that had fallen over everything. Sera rubbed her eyes and watched as her breath condensed in the air.

"Shite!" She cursed under her breath. "It's back. Time to run!" She snatched up Haba's hand and pulled her behind her as she kicked down the back door and they ran out into the night through twisted rod-iron fences and partially-built walls. Behind them, a man in tattered robes touched the doorway. Frost slowly covered the building's facade, and the grass died away in waves.

"We're getting the hang of this, yeah?" Sera tried to sound cheerful, but Haba was almost as tall as she was now, and her face was wet with tears.

"It always ends badly," was all Haba replied.


	15. Rage against the Night

**Author's note **\- Things get worse for our heroes before they get better.

**SPOILERS! **This section of the story takes place after "Here Lies the Abyss" and Before "What Pride Hath Wrought". I've been writing this story under the assumption that you have played the game before. At this point this story diverges heavily from the main plot. A lot of what goes down is extrapolating from a variety of tidbits through all three games that explain the nature of demons, mages, magic, and possession. I took a bit of my own spin in this story, and I'm sure there's some rules I don't know about or just plain get wrong, so please forgive and keep reading.

If you're in this for the smut, I'm sorry that the juicy parts aren't going to be back for a while. Hang in there, romance fans.

**Trigger warning:** Much of the this story deals with anxiety, personal demons, mental anguish, and human misery. I think a lot of why I've written this story is to try and communicate a reflection of my own struggles, but please know I don't write this to make those who are suffering feel worse. Instead, I hope to show that eventually there is a light at the end of the tunnel, it just might take your friends dragging you physically along the train tracks to reach it.

**Please review!** This is my first time ever posting to this site. I've written and drawn other stories, but this sort of blindsided me from nowhere. I'm just hoping others enjoy the story as I try to spin it out of my head.

**LASTLY! I do not own Dragon Age or the characters, nor do I receive compensation for this work.**

* * *

They stood inside a cozy plaster-chinked log cabin. By the glow of a small hearth they could see the glowing outline of a few figures. With a stoke of the fire, a large Qunari man brought the scene into better light, and they could both see an older, plumper Habrynn silently rocking a baby as she stared into the fire. opposite her, a dead ringer for The Iron Bull crossed his arms and sang something soothing under his breath in Qunlat.

"Ugh," The real Iron Bull grumbled, "Now this demon's just boring me, come on-" he tried to pull Embrim along out the side of the scene. It would have been easy to leave, like exiting from one of those traveling puppet theatres, but Embrim wasn't budging. He pulled again harder and her concentration broke as she stumbled.

"Why did you-"

"Come on, Boss," Bull snapped. "We have to concentrate on finding-" But his words were cut off by a punch to the face. It was normally a breeze to block Habrynn's throws. She didn't have the training, the height, or the muscle to go toe to toe with him. Despite her ancestry she weighed little more than Krem. But Krem had form, training, and a real love of hitting things, and Habrynn didn't.

"'Boss'?" Embrim spat, becoming a red-hot glow. "Really? Now? Balls deep in my inner thoughts and you-"

"It isn't real!" The Iron Bull bellowed.

Embrim stood stock still, watching him with wide eyes as the rage that had flushed her features drained away like a blown out candle. He continued, "You have to remember, none of this is real. But keep that anger."

The dream-Habrynn and dream-Bull slowly turned to the two of them, with eyes of jet. Embrim bared her teeth at them, and then closed the distance between her and her demonic double in one stride, latching her hands around the creature's neck. She squeezed and the double flailed as the baby cried out. A long minute went by with just the sound of the child wailing and the choking gasps of the Fade, until the whole scene crumbled into ash with the sound of a neck snapping.

"There, see?" Bull growled. Ash shifted in all directions as the resounding impacts of their pursuer grew louder and faster. "You can't run forever."

*,*,*

Cassandra shook the woman on the altar, calling out, "You are our Inquisitor! Habrynn, you have to fight against the demon, you must-" A strip of linen snaked around her arm and yanked her backwards into the pit of bodies. Hands clutched at her again with steady, slow movements. This time, their grasp was firm. In their cold skin she felt the inevitability of death, and they pressed in on her, no longer fighting, but binding her in cloth, weighing her down with sheer numbers.

"It is much easier if you do not fight," The same somber, eternally calm voice resonated through the chamber. Now it seemed to embody itself in a hunch-backed, robed shadow that stretched out over the room. With slow deliberation it reached out to her as she kicked and fought and wriggled to reach her sword where it had fallen to the step beneath the altar. Her shield that had served as protection and weapon now was a liability, giving the undead ranks a larger purchase to pin her arm.

One after another the bodies crept over her, smothering, pressing, holding her. She fought for each breath as the shadowed presence descended over the room.

"There. Sleep. It's better for everyone that way. No one to disappoint. No more battles to fight," It crooned, pressing in from all sides with suffocating darkness.

*,*,*

Sera hadn't run so much since the Blight. The fade space around her and Haba had become very just as dark and sinister as the final assault during that dark year. They fled through a crazy mixture of marble stonework, gilded shelves, gated gardens and wild brush forming a strange maze of back alleys and hurdles. The worst part was the way everything around them seemed exude a hatred for them. Branches and stones seemed to jump to trip them like thugs harassing their every move, and seemingly safe surfaces held secret rows of broken glass or razorblades to harry their pauses for breath.

"Very Denerim-ish," Sera muttered.

Haba hardly heard. She was taller than Sera now, and worry hadn't left her face since they had fled the small school room. She pressed her hands up to a smooth stonework wall, and looked left and right, tilting her head like she was trying to hear something. "It's moved again. Do you hear it?"

"Yeah, I hear it. Damn windchime with no wind!" Sera growled as she drew her bow taught, and snapped her aim to and fro as the icy despair demon that had been tailing them skittered somewhere in the shadows. "Ugh.. it's like… someone rubbing paper together. I frickken hate it!"

"No," Haba whispered. "It's like… rain?"

Sera drew out a dark colored arrow and lit the shaft. A tendril of smoke snaked out of the shadows, clawing towards her. She raised her aim and shot an incendiary burst into the darkness, and a howl of rage-filled pain filled their hearing. They ran through the flames and Haba yanked her sideways down a narrow gap between two moss-covered willow trees. Suddenly the ground was yards below them, and they tumbled down a rock hill.

They both groaned at the bruises growing up and down their sides and panted on the open grass as they caught their breath and waited for the inevitable rattling breath of the demon that was biting at their heels. Aside from the crackling of the fire Sera had started off in the distance and the faint music of crickets, the Fade was quiet.

Sera rocked to her feet and took in the small meadow they'd found themselves in. It seemed calm and empty aside from a small cobblestone building in front of them. It looked innocent and normal enough with it's wide open sides and simple wood shelving inside. She could just make out a metal handle and hinge from where she stood.

"Ah. It's a wellhouse, yah?" Sera nodded. "Less scary than that house-maze shit. And I can hear it. All musical in there." She tugged Haba up from the ground and dragged her dejected form inside. The whole building was only about eight feet square, mortared together from smooth riverstone. Even as a memory it was soaked in the smell of soap and wet cloth and lavender oil. The whole floor was recessed around a circular cistern and a single well pump that filled the room with a pulsing green light.

Sera tugged Haba's arm towards the motes of memory, and a wave of shadow burst out, pinning them both against the wall with concussive force.

"Damn magey fade shite!" Sera screamed, wriggling to try and free her arms or reach her dagger, at least. All her limbs were pinned by the dense black force around them, and it seemed to be spreading out from her core and slowly creeping up towards her face and down to her feet.

Haba was pinned as much as her, but was silenced by wracking shivers of terror as a withered pale form drew itself up from the well. Shadows dripped over it like a robe, obscuring it's face and most of it's body, save for a pair of long, thin claw-like hands.

"Useless," It hissed long and slow. "There was no point in coming here," It trailed on. "I would inevitably find you. I always win."

Sera glanced over at Haba as the voice began to grow familiar. "It's YOU?" She kicked her feet as wildly as she could from behind her bonds, and screamed at her. "It's got YOUR voice! HABA! Habrynn! You had BETTER fight this thing or I'm going to put an arrow in whatever's left of your stupid fire-throwing ARSE!"

Haba seemed to awake from the darkness, and shook her head.

"She cannot help you." The despair demon echoed, reaching a hand out to brush Sera's hair as the shadows bound her neck. In return, Sera wriggled even harder in defiance.

"Get closer! I FRIGGIN DARE YOU!" She snarled back at the demon. Sera snapped her head back to Haba, and shouted, "Don't be an ARSE, Habrynn!"

Haba shook again, craning her neck over to Sera, "You don't know what I know… it's bad… it's ALWAYS bad!" She cried.

"Don't do this to me," Sera growled. "Don't you dare. You stupid ASS, I want my friend back!"

Haba glanced back to the well, that was glowing brighter than ever, and beginning to drown out even the large shadow that stretched out to fill the room. A soft sigh escaped her lips, and vines of light burst out in every direction.

*,*,*

Embrim fumed in front of The Iron Bull. Her eyes glowed like bits of the fade ignited, and her skin churned with shifting golden patterns like magma flowed just under the skin. The Iron Bull was uneasy watching her stare into the ashes as the gray walls of a fake future caved in around them to the sound of a dragon's roar.

"It's a Desire Demon, right?" Bull snapped.

Embrim only nodded silently as a hot mist steamed off of her.

"YOUR desires?" Bull reiterated.

Embrim nodded, "Habrynn's desires."

Bull snarled, "And you're not supposed to let them give you anything, right? I know THAT much about demons, at least." He shook his head to clear the old memories from his mind. "Then don't run from it." A Dark chunk of shadow broke away and crashed beside them, kicking up a plume of ash. "SMASH IT! DESTROY IT! Take it's power away!"

With a final roar a claw crashed through sending ash swirling around them. When the cloud of debris cleared, they found themselves staring up at a blood red dragon with eyes of jet and golden inset ridges trailing down it's body. A giant emerald projected out of it's neck, pulsing with motes of light and humming in tune with the fade.

Realization dawned on Embrim's face, and collapsed into a scowl of hatred.


	16. Revealing the Fade

**Author's note **\- Things get worse for our heroes before they get better.

**SPOILERS! **This section of the story takes place after "Here Lies the Abyss" and Before "What Pride Hath Wrought". I've been writing this story under the assumption that you have played the game before. At this point this story diverges heavily from the main plot. A lot of what goes down is extrapolating from a variety of tidbits through all three games that explain the nature of demons, mages, magic, and possession. I took a bit of my own spin in this story, and I'm sure there's some rules I don't know about or just plain get wrong, so please forgive and keep reading.

If you're in this for the smut, I'm sorry that the juicy parts aren't going to be back for a while. Hang in there, romance fans.

**Trigger warning:** Much of the this story deals with anxiety, personal demons, mental anguish, and human misery. I think a lot of why I've written this story is to try and communicate a reflection of my own struggles, but please know I don't write this to make those who are suffering feel worse. Instead, I hope to show that eventually there is a light at the end of the tunnel, it just might take your friends dragging you physically along the train tracks to reach it.

**Please review!** This is my first time ever posting to this site. I've written and drawn other stories, but this sort of blindsided me from nowhere. I'm just hoping others enjoy the story as I try to spin it out of my head.

**LASTLY! I do not own Dragon Age or the characters, nor do I receive compensation for this work.**

* * *

Solas could see the whole of the puzzle from his current seat. Over the past few hours he had gotten a grasp on the strange gravity in this section of the Fade, and eventually learned to feel for the tremors and expect the turmoil that came after each memory washed over him. From Cassandra's accounts of the Nightmare's realm, he had every reason to believe that if the Inquisitor's comrades succeeded, the way would open to break the barriers and free Lady Adaar from this prison of her own making.

Now the rock faces were almost inseparable, flashing to transparency for a few moments at a time here and there, reflecting back golden farmland, rose-colored vistas and a dark crypt in turns. By now he had been able to observe them long enough in turns to judge how long it might be until they reached him.

For a moment his thoughts fell to sorrow, recalling friends he had lost to the Fade. He listened as a distant rumble indicated another section moving into place. "Not long now," Solas whispered.

Another high-pitched screech echoed through the Fade, answered with an electric hum and the crack of splintering rock, before a low rumble vibrated throughout, and settled again.

*,*,*

Every muscle in Cassandra's body focused upwards. Each sinew and fiber screamed to inch her hand just a little higher up. She felt the tips of her gauntlets poking through the burial shrouds, staying just above the crush. She could still wriggle her right hand, and she continued to try for as long as she could, until even those fingers were clamped in place by another pile of gore and decay.

Her lungs began to burn. Her breastplate creaked against the pressure around her, but it held, and she could pull tiny reeking breaths through the gap of her helmet. "Andraste guide me," she thought desperately, before she succumbed to the black.

The last thing she heard before she blacked out was a shriek of indignation from above, and the soft clink of music from below her.

*,*,*

The World washed over with lemony hues and faded to a pale yellow before shapes began to emerge. Haba looked older in this memory. She still wore a simple brown dress and the acorn-decorated aprons of Lord Évreaux, but now she walked alongside the same pale-skinned, fair-haired young man from before. Where she had been shorter than him before, now they were almost the same height, striding through hilly vineyards and laughing as they explored rocky streams overlooking the sprawling estate.

They shared quiet company in dim libraries and lay on the ground kicking their feet parallel to each other as they filled in diagrams and wrote next to piles of school books. As they sat in a patch of wildflowers, he leaned over and kissed her unexpectedly, and she balked away and ran from his attentions. But the pair flicked back and forth together.

Their clothes changed and seasons progressed around them, and she continued to grow taller faster than he did, until she was half a head taller than him even though her proportions were that of a gangly teenager and his chin showed patchy blonde stubble. Now they were running, laughing at the top of their lungs as a cloudburst began drench them and their picnic basket while they raced to reach a small stone pavillion.

Squealing with mixed glee and concern, they dashed into the well house and looked out at the roaring rain that drenched everything outside, and pointed and laughed at each other's disheveled clothing. They leaned against the well with a drenched blanket wrapped around their shoulders, until the young man leaned towards her and planted a soft kiss on her lips.

"Julian," Habrynn replied hesitantly. By now her coppery hair was down to the middle of her back in damp awkward curls, and her horns projected behind her head at almost their full length. Her body wasn't as full and curved as Sera knew her, but this was no longer the silhouette of a young girl, but someone becoming a young woman. "We shouldn't," She whispered uncertainly.

Julian answered, "I love you." His kisses were intense and targeted, charged with withheld longing. Her responses were open-eyed and awkward at first, until his other hand swept around her waist, and his kisses fell to her neck.

They pressed against each other hungrily, fighting to place the next kiss, grabbing at each other and fumbling for clothing closures, until he reached a hand under her skirt, and her eyes went wide. Steam rose up from her, and the green of her eyes flickered gold for a moment, and then black. "Julian," she squeaked, "Wait."

He ignored her, and pressed his mouth to hers one more time. She cringed, tried to push away, cried out, and her eyes flashed green as a pillar of flames ignited around her.

Julian's screams filled the world, and she pushed him out into the rain in a panic, ignoring her own clothes that were burning around her. Habrynn shook as she raised her hands to her face, smoke and little wisps of flame still tracing up her skin as her dress crackled into char around her.

She stared out in horror as Julian sobbed with pain and looked up at her with blisters nearly puffing his eyes closed. He reached out, and she screamed back, "GO!" And watched as he stumbled in the rain and mud until he regained his footing enough to head back towards the blurry silhouette of the villa.

Habrynn wrapped the half-charred blanket around herself in an attempt at modesty, and ran the opposite direction, out of the estate, her feet slapping the mud and rain pouring around her masking the sobs of terror and pain.

Sera stood for a long time in silence as the world faded back to a dark cold gray. The tendrils that had wrapped around her and held them to the wall were gone, along with the well house itself. Now everything around them expanded into a endless grey space with just a few crumbled stone walls and dead grass spread out around them, like play backdrop replacing reality.

Amidst the rubble was a single lily, flickering with light.

*,*,*

The pressure of warm fingers wrapping around her own. The scrape of metal against bone. A scream, and then a gurgling wet noise as the scream was cut short. Cassandra awoke to a drip of blood working its way into her helmet, and hissed in a breath. The pressure on her chest increased for a moment, like someone stood on her, and then it fell away with a scraping vibration, and light began to trickle into her sight in shades of red.

A wordless rasp of distaste rattled through the cavern, and the sound of wet puncturing strikes rang out, as the beast withdrew.

With another wet slice, she could see above her, and looked upwards into the luminous face of the old woman from the altar, reaching through the corpses to grasp her arm firmly by the elbow, and yank her back into the open. The pit of bodies was motionless now, and all around them the stench of decay rose up as the stiff unliving forms began to liquify.

Cassandra grimaced as the stench almost overpowered her, but the old woman stood before her motionless, glowing with dim colorless light and staring back at her resolutely. "Sloth came for me, but it cannot hold you." She said emotionlessly, and the cavern shook with a roar of indignation again.

"Will you be my sword?" The woman asked.

"I am already bound to you, Inquisitor!" Cassandra replied reverently. "What is this about-?" She did not have the chance to finish as the light enveloped her. Cassandra's sword was back in her hand, now glowing with a brilliant holy light alongside her shield. For a moment, Cassandra thought of luminous the form of Divine Justinia that Habrynn had described in the Fade.

*,*,*

"Just kill a dragon. Easy, right?" Embrim joked, snapping her fingers to conjure fire into her palm.

"That's what I like to see!" Bull shouted.

She threw him a quick smile and turned back to their scaley adversary. They dodged in opposite directions as an arc of lightning sparked where they had stood a moment before.

They wove back and forth, slashing at it's legs, circling it with flames. For a time, it was like a primal dance between the three of them, attacking and dodging. For each strike there was a counterstrike and a dodge to avoid barrelling into the boulders. A snap of enormous teeth, and bloom of searing flames, and then Bull was recovering from her shoulder smashing into the ground. He recovered before the beast could crush him with a whip of it's tail. He would dash in for a strike, and jump aside as a claw swiped. The familiar hum of Habrynn's barrier sung off and on around him, in harmony with the slash of her spectral sword.

Embrim dashed forward and leapt back as the dragon screeched and countered, slashing with energy or throwing fireballs as the attacks demanded. She laced the ground with fire, trying to control where the dragon stepped as she dashed to dodge it's lashing tail and errant lightning. They stayed on opposite sides of the beast, keeping it circling, snapping it's jaws to and fro, trying to catch one, but always being struck harder by the next blow. They were always in it's blind spots, relentless and synchronized better than Bull had ever remembered fighting with Habrynn.

The dragon's claws scrabbled for purchase in mud drenched in the beast's own blood. With a crash it fell and howled at Embrim, finally giving The Iron Bull a perfect window. In leapt up using the dragon's claws as a ramp and sliced his greataxe down into its skull with a resounding crack the deafened everything else to silence around them. It was almost too easy, felling the demonic creature, and the silence ate at him like the end of a song, making the absent rhythm more pronounced.

Embrim stepped towards him, extinguishing the flames from around her arm and releasing the blade of energy with a noisy buzz. There was something different about her than before, but Bull wasn't sure what it was, aside from an intense charisma that flowed off of her like the steam that still poured off her glowing body. Without any warning, she drove her hand into the stone at the dead beast's neck, and the world flashed into a green mirror of itself for a moment, before a reflection of the War Room filled his vision.

Habrynn was leaned over the pieced together map of Thedas with her hands balancing on the Arbor wilds and the Mires of Fereldan.

"You weren't in your room." Lelianna's voice echoed from down the hall. "This was honestly the last place I looked."

"Couldn't sleep," Habrynn muttered.

"I doubt this will make things better," Lelianna replied, handing over a dingey, crumpled note. Habrynn unfolded it gingerly and then dropped it to the floor.

"All of them," Habrynn whispered. "_All_ the Valo-Kas are dead?"

Lellianna looked away with a nervousness unusual for her. "Shokrakar and one other still live. They were the ones waiting for a report back…" her voice trailed away as she stepped up to the side of their staging table, as if awaiting a response. Habrynn simply continued to stare into the north-western corner of Orlais longingly.

"It's my fault," Habrynn finally croaked.

"It is Lord Rosmont Évreaux's fault," Lellianna snapped. "Cullen's men already have him in custody. He should arrive for trial in the next few weeks. You can judge him beside that weasely mayor of Crestwood."

Habrynn did not answer, she simply continued to stare into the map as if it might answer. The edges of the room bled towards the center, and the memory folded in on itself with a flash of light.

The dragon's corpse hissed into smoke around them, and a low rumbling grumbled through all the landscape, opening small cracks and fissures beneath their feet. Bull stared into the distance, unsure how to feel. "I didn't know," He muttered. "You didn't tell me. But I can understand. If they had been my men-"

"Do not apologize to me," Embrim replied flatly. Bull turned, and glared at the new form she had taken on. He face was like molten silver reflecting the world into distorted ripples. Her horns were like Habrynn's, but two sets of them projected back from her head. She seemed like a metallic mockery of the woman he knew, no longer like a overly warm copy.

*,*,*

"Because that isn't weird," Sera grumbled. She sniffed, surprised at her own tears, and finally continued, "You're not Habrynn, are you? I thought you were, but now… creepy thing's gone, and you're a flower."

"I'm her. I'm part. I'm Joy." Her voice seemed to come from several places at once, not quite catching up with itself as she spoke. it sounded weary, but not unkind as the Despair had been before.

"Pff, right," Sera sneered, crouching down on the balls of her feet to examine the flower more closely. "At least you seem more harmless than most freaky spirit … things."

"Please, I need your help. One last time-"

"No way," Sera snapped back to her feet and turned her back on it.

The ground began to shake, and cold light began to crack through the facade. "Please," Joy repeated. "I can't escape on my own!"

"Escape?" Sera spat, "Thought you were _part _of her or somethin'? Don't have to escape _yourself_… wait-" Sera stopped in mid sentence as the deeper meaning struck her.

"It's still here. Help me, and you can still tell her-!"

Sera spun on her heel and silenced Joy with a swift stomp. The golden light flickered to almost nothing with a pained squeal, but the shaking and cold light around them continued to grow.

"Fine… then despair," The dark echo of Haba rumbled around her as the void began to chill and freeze. Hoarfrost laced over every surface, slowly encroaching towards them in every direction.

Sera pulled her bowstring taught and snorted, "Never needed no one's help _before_."

*,*,*

When the spots cleared from Cassandra's eyes, the world seemed to be illuminated into harsh black and white, and the form of sloth wriggled and skittered from side to side, no longer hidden within the shadows and crevices. It was hardly a challenge now to dodge it's pathetic swipes and chase it into a corner to thrust her blade into it with a final shout and surge of holy wrath to scatter its ash from the world. It died with a quick screech and an ooze of black vitriol that dispersed across the stone floor where bodies had once filled the room.

Now the light dimmed, but the strange harsh outlining of the world around her remained. The woman's energy still burned inside her, warm and empowering as raw lyrium, but with an edge of clarity that not even the strongest coffee had ever brought her.

"I do not envy the Templars, if this is the weight of their temptation," Cassandra whispered, studying the edge of her blade in awe.

"You know of temptation already, Seeker," The woman's voice commanded, resonating from her own chest.

Casandra clamped her hand over her own mouth, but still the voice continued in a flat, authoritative tone, "No time for superstition. Fulfill this duty, then think of the sins you almost committed."

Cassandra nodded her head gravely, though she did not know where to direct her gaze. There was no more than bloodstains on the smooth stone floor to prove the bodies were ever there. Everything was silent, save for the slow chiming of music below her feet. There a patch of grassy green light glowed, throwing off tiny motes of light that dissipated into the gloom. Without hesitation, she thrust her hand into the glow, not knowing what she might see.

Burnt orange dust kicked up in their wake as they ran down a narrow canyon. Habrynn and Solas were the fastest, dashing forward with a vengeful glint in their eyes as they threw icebolts and fireballs to keep their targets from escaping. Bull and Sera were close behind, shouting for instructions.

Ahead of them, Three Venatori and a half dozen barely clothed slaves stumbled over themselves to stay ahead, until they came to an intersection where the Canyon split in a steep Y, one narrowing into a rocky stair-step back to the top to the top of the canyon, and the other roaring with the sound of water in the distance.

One of the Venatori turned, clutching a slave by the neck. Solas saw him first, and pulled his staff up into an arc as Ice rose ahead of their swiftest enemies. The panicked slaver drew out a knife before Habrynn could scream, "NO!" And the ground was splashed with red before a burst of evil crimson light exploded out from the first Venatori.

The slave's body slumped to the ground, withered, black and blue as the mage's skin crackled with energy, and pulsed out into a swirling barrier of energy around him. His two comrades skidded to a stop as they realized the boulder-filled dead end they had run into was too steep to escape their captors. They all drew out knives as well, and proceeded to slash and stab the slaves they had been dragging by collars and chains.

Habrynn's scream filled the world, and she thrust her staff down into the ground, arcing lightning through each of the three Venatori before they could pull any use from their victim's blood. Solas continued running forward as she stopped in front of the first mage who still held his barrier, sweating with fright as she loomed over him.

"If they die you'll kill me? Right? That's how it works?" He stammered. "I have enough energy left, I could save them with blood magic-. Spare me!" He cried out.

Habrynn silently scowled at him, grinding her teeth. "Four…. three…"

"Say something!" He screamed.

From the side, Solas shouted back, "It's useless… They are too injured for my magics to help them now…"

"Spare me!" The Venatori screamed in panic. "I could give you information!"

"Two second left, if that's an average barrier," Habrynn responded. "One, and-" She struck her staff into the ground, and glanced away as lightning shot up from the ground through his body, paralyzing him the instant the barrier went down.

Bull and Sera watched in disbelief as she cast a column of fire, staring into the flames with tears running down her face as the Venatori screamed.

"I couldn't save them," She whispered hoarsely, "It's all so pointless."

*,*,*

"You," He growled. "You're a demon too? How did I-"

"I am empathy. I am _her empathy_," She told him, with a voice like the clink of metal first submerged into a forge.

Bull rounded on her, swinging into the ground when she dodged back lightly, and tilted her head to observe him with his own face warped back in her mirrored skin. "You needed my aid. I needed yours. I am no demon. I seek no pact to feed on you."

With a loud crack the ground shifted, and thrusts of rock jutted out all around them. Clumps of grass flew out as the ground rearranged itself around them, throwing them both off their feet as they found themselves in a channelled cliff face forming around them.

"The barriers are breaking!" Embrim shouted as she stumbled to keep her balance in chaotically shifting landscape. "She needs us! BOTH of us!"

"No way! You can't trust spirits!" The Iron Bull growled, swinging his axe at her ferociously before he stumbled again, crashing his armored shoulder into a boulder.

"And you can trust _the Heart of the Many_?" Embrim snarled back, and where her eyes should be, a dark moonless night drenched in rain flashed back at him.

Bull's eyes shrank to dark pin-points of hate as he threw every ounce of strength into the next lunge. The axe cast a shower of sparks next to her as she dodged. He was quicker, though, and he kicked her side mercilessly, then stepped onto her leg as she fell. She tumbled into a shallow crevice in the ground, and he wrenched his arms over his head for the kill.

"Kill me and you kill her!" Embrim screamed as Bull's renewed swing stopped short of cleaving her. He cooled his fury with rapid breaths through clenched teeth until he finally let the axe drop to the side with a violent clang.

Embrim reached up before he could attack again, and touched his arm. With a quick scraping noise and a glint of light, she disappeared, and in her place, The Iron Bull's armor suddenly gleamed like molten metal and Paragon's Luster.


	17. Fear and Hubris

**Author's note **\- An exit and an enemy are within reach.

**SPOILERS! **This section of the story takes place after "Here Lies the Abyss" and Before "What Pride Hath Wrought". I've been writing this story under the assumption that you have played the game before. At this point this story diverges heavily from the main plot. A lot of what goes down is extrapolating from a variety of tidbits through all three games that explain the nature of demons, mages, magic, and possession. I took a bit of my own spin in this story, and I'm sure there's some rules I don't know about or just plain get wrong, so please forgive and keep reading.

If you're in this for the smut, I'm sorry that the juicy parts aren't going to be back for a while. Hang in there, romance fans.

**Trigger warning:** Much of the this story deals with anxiety, personal demons, mental anguish, and human misery. I think a lot of why I've written this story is to try and communicate a reflection of my own struggles, but please know I don't write this to make those who are suffering feel worse. Instead, I hope to show that eventually there is a light at the end of the tunnel, it just might take your friends dragging you physically along the train tracks to reach it.

**Please review!** This is my first time ever posting to this site. I've written and drawn other stories, but this sort of blindsided me from nowhere. I'm just hoping others enjoy the story as I try to spin it out of my head.

**LASTLY! I do not own Dragon Age or the characters, nor do I receive compensation for this work.**

* * *

Two arrows plinked in rapid succession, and then a third struck through the tail of the Despair demon's robes and shattered in the distance. It swept around her, cackling as it tried to swipe at her with black vicious claws. It became the shadows, and then lunged out from them, jabbing and striking out, always a split second shy of carving into Sera.

Her breath trailed behind her movements as she sprinted and leapt, dodged and weaved around it's attacks. Each time it tried to disappear, it couldn't. Her eyes could see it, see the black against more black. Her shots were slowly catching up to it. The points weren't just catching trailing strands, now they were striking morbid toes, sticking into it's darkened flesh.

She could hear the song, and it lit her blood on fire. Before she understood what had happened, she was standing over it's corpse as it crumbled to glowing dust, right before the world turned ninety-degrees on it's head.

Sera scrutinized the Fade, bending her knees into the tumultuous motions as the world reassembled itself around them. She had no time to think of the lapse in the fight or how easy it had been to defeat the demon once she let go. The ground burst upwards, tossing her ass over heels into a tumble down a mirrored slide as the world flashed into metallic brightness all around her.

After a few moments of wind rushing around her in a metal freefall, Sera finally found her bearings and tumbled back up to her feet, hitting the ground running as the slide collapsed and the Fade shattered around her retreat. Through a disjointed wall of crystal she could see Bull running beside her in the same direction with a wreath of molten metal around him.

To the other side, Cassandra charged forward, white light streaming off her shield and sword. The three of them were all running towards the blue glow that filled the end of the tunnel. They both seemed fixated on their destination, but Sera only felt worry bubbling up. She couldn't shake the feeling that she was still in freefall, like if she thought too hard the foundation would dissolve, and there would be no more running, forever. She looked down at her feet as she sprinted, and only saw shadows and the void stretching out beneath her. Sera shivered and sped up her pace, bursting into the light before them, and seeing the cavern take form as they were both still blinking their eyes, wobbling unsteadily.

Solas was already there, looking the worst for wear. The right side of his clothes were brown and darkened with blood, but crackling with tendrils of rift energy.

Sera sneered, and for once, Solas glared alone was enough to set her on edge. The elven apostate rarely got upset by anything. "What's his problem now?" Sera thought.

"I'm glad you both made it through," Solas nodded to Cassandra and Bull.

"Glad to see you too," Sera blew Solas a raspberry.

"This is not the time for your childishness!" Solas growled. Their attention was quickly drawn into the distance by an electrified hum, drawing out a high-pitched screech of rage from the remaining Nightmare as it's tentacles were struck back with pinpoint strikes of the Pride demon's thorny whip.

Bull twisted his grip around his great axe, growling out a guttural sound of disapproval, "More Demons."

"Is that-?" Cassandra began, before the voice of Vigilance overtook her, and crisply enunciated, "It is the Nightmare. We have retaken out memories. It should fall easily now."

As if on cue, the nightmare shrieked out a bubbling cry as one last arc of Pride's whip sliced through it, vaporizing the remaining tendrils with a pulse of indigo energy.

"That is the real threat," Vigilance concluded, pointing Cassandra's sword to the demon that stood atop the cluttered landfill of Habrynn's mind. It flexed a taloned hand, tar and dark blue liquid seeping from a myriad of crack and fissures in it's carapace, showing patches of bloody skin and torn leather within.

"Vigilance is correct," Solas nodded, casting his gaze back and forth across their new battleground. "That is the last barrier between us and Lady Adaar."

Bull snorted as he continued to worry his axe grip. "Fine. One more demon. How are we doing this?"

"Only one way-" Sera began, bow already positioned, stretched hard for a long shot.

"NO!" Solas and Casandra shouted together, shoving her sideways with the full force of their combined weight. Her arrow flew high, floundering off to the side and clattering against a piece of refuse.

Sera recovered, rolled back to crouch and growled at them both, "WHAT The CRAP?!"

"You've done enough damage," Vigilance stated.

"Do you plan to murder Habrynn as you tried to murder Joy?" Solas growled.

"What?" Sera squeaked. "I- what are you talking about?!" She finished with a growl. "I'm _shooting_ a DEMON!"

Bull glanced between their scuffle and the demon that watched them cat-like from the distance, and finally spat, "I don't like where this is going."

"The spirits and Habrynn exist TOGETHER. When you tried to kill Joy, you were killing a part OF HER." Solas snapped. "The last barrier is Pride, and INSIDE, is our INQUISITOR!"

"Barriers?" Cassandra scoffed, "Who would do this to the Inquisitor? Who _could _do this to her?"

"I'm afraid the Lady Adaar did this to herself," Solas quietly responded.

"What?" Sera and Bull shouted in unison.

"Fear corrupted Wisdom to Hubris," Casandra whispered with Vigilance.

"And pain made her throw aside what she deemed unnecessary," Embrim finally echoed in clinks and pops from The Iron Bull's armor.

"I didn't need your help," Hubris growled, smashing a line into the chaos around it with a crack of it's whip. "Not then. Not now!"

Solas glared back at the demon and lifted his staff from the ground hesitantly, testing his weight on his own two feet. "Good luck convincing a pride demon that you helped it," He said with a surprising edge of snark.

"Just get us close enough, and we can rejoin her-" Vigilance commanded, and Cassandra glared a smile at each of them in turn.

"Tch," Hubris clicked, "No one ever listens." She raised a taloned hand, and the anchor glowed like lines of lightning across the left side of her body. The Fade responded immediately, throwing Orleasian furniture and broken masonry at them from all sides. The junk pile that seemed like decor was now a maelstrom of projectiles.

It was all Solas could do to snap a partial shield in front of himself before wood shattered into his side. "GO!" He shouted, "She's reforming the barriers! I can hold her magic at bay, but you two must reach her!"

Bridging the dozen yards between them and Habrynn's demon was harder than it first seemed. Arcs of rift energy spiked out as the Fade continued to reform itself around them, blasting them back with bursts of raw energy or knocking them aside with a whip from Hubris herself. The demon had seemed calm before, holding ground amidst the cast off artifacts of Habrynn's life, but now she was frenzied, striking in all directions, roaring in wordless rage at their attempts to gain ground.

Bull spent as much time counterattacking furniture and bricks that were hurled at him as he did dancing from position to position, trying to avoid falling into the next gap of fade energy to open up beneath them. Cassandra seemed to have an easier time, between the holy light that poured off her and her shield wall she stayed more focused, even if she was only gaining inches, she was gaining ground. Her eyes were fixed on the goal with more single-mindedness than Bull had ever seen.

Sera was having the hardest time. They had told her no arrows, but that was all she had. She didn't have the armor to stand like a rock and accept the blows like Cassandra, nor magic to deflect and absorb the punishment like Solas, and she didn't have a big weapon to just slice her way through danger. The only option she had left was running. At first she was a great decoy, at least. She tucked and rolled down piles of tattered bolts of fabric and broken down armor, and tried not to look into the faces of the bodies that stuck out between broken furnishings and demolished walls, and ducked and leapt a hair's breadth away from the projectiles that threatened to concuss her on the spot.

But when she had no more than stray bricks to throw at the demon, it soon stopped focusing on her, and returned to battering the warriors, and shattering the edges of the cavern with wild energy as Solas tried to pause long enough to do more than smash a growing barrier stone with dispelling energies.

Bull was close. He could feel Empathy coiling around him, readying for a spring, but their hopes were dashed as a crack of Hubris's whip smashed into them, and the world flashed indigo and black for a moment before he felt the crack of his shoulder dislocating, and the rapid succession of jabs that told him he'd been launched backwards.

"Bull!" Cassandra shouted, and in the brief moment that his plight drew her concentration, Hubris twisted and sliced sideways with her whip and struck the seeker into the rubble with the grating crash of metal scraping against stone.

The vibrating hum of Hubris's whip was answered by a flurry of arrows, whistling with the high pitch of incredible speed. a half dozen shafts struck the demon, and it staggered back and howled in pain.

Solas screamed after dispelling another rift bloom, "Sera! If you keep that up you'll kill her before we can save her!"

"This is bullshit!" Sera screeched, dodging aside as Hubris took notice of her again, and began to demolish the scenery around her a step behind the young elf's sprint.

Bull growled and cleaved a renegade chair in half before he could be knocked out again, his right arm hanging useless. "You gotta have something besides arrows!" He grunted, shoved his right side hard into the nearest projection, and snarled and growled with pain as movement returned to his repositioned arm.

Casandra shouted as well, angling her shield to deflect a log the barreled towards her head, staggering to regain her footing after the impact. "Use that foolish head of yours!"

Sparks flew around her as the demon's whip scraped across a pile of rusted armor. Sera glared back at it with a vicious smile. She struck a hand into her bottomless goody bag, and hurled an elixir towards it like a grenade. A discordant shriek echoed around them as ice enveloped the demon's leg. Sera lobbed another and another, and the creature's shriek continued as more and more of it was latched in place by the cold.

Bull and Casandra wasted no time, and with a few seconds of dire sprinting, they were within reach, straining their hands forward. The twin spirits leapt from them, surging into Hubris like a broken dam. In a moment Cassandra's glow and Bull's molten halo were dispersed, and Hubris ignited into an explosion of blinding light and agonized screams.

*,*,*

They awoke scattered in the crater of the Tear, as the last of the veilfire dispersed into the clouds, leaving them all to get their bearings in a pit of frozen black lavastone amidst the creaking plinks of fast-warming ice. Everything was fogged in a haze of steam as the noon-day sun glared overhead, brushed aside by a brisk wind picking up over the valley.

Casandra blinked the spots back from her eyes as they adjusted from the blinding burst to sunlight, and quickly sighted the Inquisitor, sprawled painfully to the side of a rise in the undulating stone, her leg bent under her with an obvious fracture. She dashed towards her alongside Bull who had also recovered, with Sera not far behind them.

They only had a few moments to themselves to fret over the Inquisitor, before all of the encampment was racing in to join them in a cacophony of cheers, angry questions, hugs and shouted orders.

Cassandra was dragged away to rest as soon as she heard the words from Vivienne and Dorian's lips that the Inquisitor was alive and stabilizing. This time it was Cullen chastising her for refusing sleep, and guarding her tent against her own escape.

Knowing that the Inquisitor was sleeping through the worst of her injuries, Cassandra finally shut her own eyes, and welcomed her own fall into exhaustion.


	18. Precipice of the Soul

**Author's note **\- Habrynn looks over the edge of the deep end.

**SPOILERS! **This section of the story takes place after "Here Lies the Abyss" and Before "What Pride Hath Wrought". I've been writing this story under the assumption that you have played the game before. At this point this story diverges heavily from the main plot. A lot of what goes down is extrapolating from a variety of tidbits through all three games that explain the nature of demons, mages, magic, and possession. I took a bit of my own spin in this story, and I'm sure there's some rules I don't know about or just plain get wrong, so please forgive and keep reading.

If you're in this for the smut, I'm sorry that the juicy parts aren't going to be back for a while. Hang in there, romance fans.

**Trigger warning:** **_Attempted Suicide._ **Much of the this story deals with anxiety, personal demons, mental anguish, and human misery. I think a lot of why I've written this story is to try and communicate a reflection of my own struggles, but please know I don't write this to make those who are suffering feel worse. Instead, I hope to show that eventually there is a light at the end of the tunnel, it just might take your friends dragging you physically along the train tracks to reach it.

**Please review!** This is my first time ever posting to this site. I've written and drawn other stories, but this sort of blindsided me from nowhere. I'm just hoping others enjoy the story as I try to spin it out of my head.

**LASTLY! I do not own Dragon Age or the characters, nor do I receive compensation for this work.**

* * *

The sky spun overhead as pain exploded inside her. Hot electric currents arched through her chest as she awoke to the sound of her own screams. A throb stabbed behind one eye, and the Anchor made itself heard with itching, pulsating vibrations that rattled from her fingertips to her heart. All at once panic and dread ran cold through her veins as glimpses of demons, claws and blood bounced around her mind.

Habrynn tried to sit up, but she was strapped down to a gurney, and one of her legs was encased in something. She felt deathly cold, and her mind reached for some explanation, "Ice and glaciers all around me. An avalanche?" In a panic, she instinctively called up fire, but only saw sparks flying as a ripple of green light washed over her- an answering dispelling wave. A brief flash of amber light and Dorian's hand was over her face, whispering in Tevene. It sounded like "sleep," or something similar to Habrynn's untrained ears, and it darkened the sky and numbed her senses.

Blackness enveloped her and jade sands sloshed around her feet. Her boots were sinking, sucked into the wet muck as the grains went from a trickle to a roar around her, swallowing her from the bottom up. She began to panic again within the Fade, but the sand filled her mouth and suffocated her screams, crushing her from all sides until even her reaching fingertips were covered over.

*,*,*

The Iron Bull was the first to touch her after emerging from the Fade, and even as Vivienne and Dorian tried to shove him aside to assess her injuries, he had kept her in view, refusing to lose sight of her again. He watched as they bandaged and traced glowing hands over her, discussing her condition in rapid-fire jargon that he didn't have the faintest understanding of.

Something about energy, and hemorrhaging, and specific names of each bone they thought she had broken. He had sent enough men to the grave to understand breaks and bleeding. Enough to stand aside and let them work their magic without him. He had seen good soldiers die from infections from hangnails in the wrong conditions, and others survive every rib shattering if the right healer was on hand. Part of him wanted to shout and question as he paced uselessly. They were setting her injuries like any surgeon anywhere in Thedas might. Why weren't they pumping her full of light and magic and spirits- "Vashedan," He thought, answering his own question. Of course not spirits. They were sitting on a raw wound in the world. Who in their right mind would chance it right here, even for the Inquisitor?

Sera hovered around them like a hummingbird, making petulant little noises each them they triaged another wound or cut away part of Habrynn's clothes to unveil another festered gash or infected scrape. Bull had seen that kind of damage countless times, in Seheron, and on the longer missions that the Chargers had been tasked with, far away from civilization, clean water and helpful magics.

As they began to splint her leg, Habrynn screamed in a delirious state, scaring the surgeons that had huddled around her as the first spark of a fire spell awakened. Vivienne was prepared to dispel, and Dorian was quick to sedate her, but the cry sliced through him like the wounds were being peeled open on his own skin, raw and tender and blistering to the touch.

Sera clung onto his forearm, hiding half her face behind her hand but unable to look away. "What are they doing to her? Maker's ball, what if she dies? What if they kill her?" Sera squealed in a panic.

Bull growled, "If you can't calm down and shut up, you need to go the hell away!" And immediately regretted his words.

Sera stepped back with a pained grimace on her face, running her hands through her hair as she whimpered, "Fine, fine, whatever, stupid piss-bags don't need me."

He continued to glare at her as she spun and ran back into the camp, hating himself but unable to contain a dark anger towards her. He still couldn't forget what Solas had said. How she almost killed a part of Habrynn, even if she didn't understand the repercussions. The self loathing and anger twisted together like snakes in his chest. How was he any different? He had been inches away from the same regret.

The Qunari had no gods to speak of. They lived by the Qun, the words of an enlightened man, but still mortal words that his people had chosen to follow out of logic and trust, not belief in something they could never see or touch. So when many of the Inquisition soldiers and Templars said prayers to the Maker or asked Andraste to watch the Inquisitor, Bull only snorted and kept his mouth shut.

The only force he could ask to aid the Inquisitor was himself. When they settled her into a wagon he insisted the Chargers be the leading Vanguard. When they suggested that someone should sleep in the wagon with her to make sure she stayed warm, he didn't even hesitate.

The first night was the worst, as he awoke every hour to hear her whimpering, crying out with fevers and shaking with chills in turn. He tried to hold her against him, but anything more than light touch and she awoke and began to scream incoherently. He wanted to hold her close, to reassure her, but her mind was somewhere else, and so much of her body was swathed in bandages or splints to keep her from making broken bones worse. He hovered on a precipice, holding her near but unable to comfort.

Solas had finally recovered enough by that morning to cast a calm over her, which stopped the whimpers and night terrors, but did not lift the pained frown from her face as she lay in a forced sleep.

"She isn't out of danger yet," Solas explained matter-of-factly. "I tried to seek her in the Fade as I recovered. She is no longer in a maze of her own making, but… it's a maelstrom. I have no better way to describe it. She dreams in a storm of fire and fury."

Bull just grunted. What could he do against magic and demons that Solas couldn't? He stayed by her side in the wagon, despite the jostling pitted road and the arch in his back from bracing himself away from her. When they finally reached Skyhold, he demanded to be in the room as they stripped her and reassessed the wounds. But when Solas, Vivienne and Dorian began to draw circles of inscriptions and call of spirits to aid their healing attempts, he finally cracked.

Despite his desire to stay by her, his own fear and exhaustion finally won out, and he went to find something to punch.

*,*,*

Habrynn awoke many times as the week wore on. Split seconds of the realization that she wasn't drowning in sand. She would cough and screech for her captors to release her, and only get a brief glimpse of people she thought were her friends, before the terror was pressed down and she was thrown into the current of the Fade again.

A raging emerald river coursed around her, bashing her on the rocks, yanking her under the spray just as she thought she might get a breath, instead filling her lungs with burning water before churning her over again.

She saw Bull looming over her, with a face contorted with sorrow and his good eye a sleepless shadow. She heard herself screaming again, felt her skin crawling like ants were burrowing through her skin, and then the river grabbed her again, dashed her into a boulder before lapping over her, sucking her down into emerald depths.

Finally, as her limbs grew too heavy and pained to move, she felt warm fingertips touch her chest, and then another grasp her wrist, and yank up hard. She ascended upwards through deep water that rippled around her, pressing her skin into her face with the force of the motion. She burst up through the waves and launched towards a horizon of liquid silver.

As she splashed through the barrier, she was greeted by spirit that seemed to be formed from the same molten metal, with rippling translucent tendrils forming insectoid wings one moment, then jerking and swishing away, dissolving into the surroundings like a jellyfish.

"Empathy?" Habrynn called out with a burst of realization. She could just start to remember crimson-coated dreams fighting a dragon and traveling through a pleasure palace with Bull by her side. But the spirit had dissolved back into the Fade after helping her. Though she was grateful, she was in no hurry to feel it's tendrils around her again.

Rain was pouring over her. She could feel the dampness in every crevice of her clothes, soaked through leathers, and lodenwool. The damp dripped down her neck in rivulets directed by her clumped hair, and trailled down her backside in two streams off her horns. The landscape was dark, blue-grey over black pools of shadow all around her, save for a few glints of white cast over wet outlines by a sliver of moon that peeked out between clouds every few moments.

"Crestwood," Habrynn muttered. She hated Crestwood. Who didn't? She looked around and saw a tiny wooden platform braced on a pile of boulders high above her. Suddenly she was there, watching a thin, 3-foot long streamer tied around a wooden beam whip dejectedly in the wet wind.

A guttural cough cut the dark. She would recognized that snarl anywhere. "Bull?" She whispered.

He stared through her, speaking to someone on her other side, glaring into the night as if she wasn't there. "Ash and dust," He snarled in Qunlat. "I was scattered to the wind."

A bright-eyed, red-haired elf stepped from the shadows into the damp half-light, wearing a bronze-trimmed cloak that looked much warmer than Bull's lack of shirt. "What was scattered could be reunited," She replied sweetly in the Common tongue.

Bull responded with a drawn own growl and a shake of his head, "What is this?"

"It's a new offer." The elf tilted her head, eyeing Bull sidelong. "Call it a… contract?"

"Venak hol," Bull replied. _You bore me._

"Alright. I'll just say it straight then. You don't really think the Qun would just _let you go_, did you?"

Bull's eye widened a little, and he moved his arm to his belt, palming a dagger he didn't try to hide.

"It's not like _that_." She clicked her tongue, shook her head and turned around fully, keeping her hands clearly in the air. "We know you're close to the Inquisitor. Her decision made it impossible for us to _ally _with her, but there are plenty of reason to keep a close eye on her." She smirked at him over her shoulder.

Bull eyed the woman's backside uncertainly for a while. "And the two assassins?"

"Public display." She flicked a baton to him, and he caught it in his left hand without his gaze leaving her.

Gradually, he brought to baton up to his face, scrutinized it a moment, touched the tip and unfurled the message contained inside. He glanced over it a moment, and then let out a very long sigh. "And if I decline?"

"Then you become Salit." She smirked. "Only one second chance."

Bull narrowed his gaze at her, and then rubbed the rain from his eye. "Fine. Wasn't my choice to leave in the first place."

"Good," She chirped, and tossed a small vial to him. He caught it easily, and looked down at the small glowing container as his eye went wide. He clutched his fingers around it and snarled. Tallis continued sweetly,"That prick you felt in the back of your neck earlier today, while you fought the bandits? Not your imagination. If you'd ignored my signal, or declined, you'd have just died in your sleep." She curtsied and turned to walk away, "The name's Tallis. I'll be your contact from now on!"

Habrynn awoke with a suddenness and clarity she hadn't felt in months, surprised to find the familiar fluting of the vault ceiling over her bed in Skyhold staring back at her. For a moment, she was fixed in place, fear of another dive into the Fade holding her fingers firm where they clenched the sheets. Gradually, she relaxed, and wiggled her shoulders against the stiff pillows they had propped up behind her.

Her hands explored below the covers, feeling a new scar developing across the side of one rib. Bandages wrapped around her right shoulder and across her chest and stomach, and her right leg was lost in a mass of bracing sticks secured around it. She could remember a flash of pain and the pressure of arms holding her down as she kicked off their attempts to move the bone back into place.

Her fingers eventually traced back up to her face, rustling the unfamiliar night gown, and curling up into the tuft of hair available amidst the bandages woven over her horns and around her temples. Her grip tighten gradually as she tried to recall the last clear memory since the rift had swallowed her in the Hinterlands.

Falling through mirrors. The nightmare attacking her around every corner. Blood. Bodies. pain, an explosion that injured Solas, Bull, Cassandra, and Sera. Fire consuming everything around her. The inquisition all dead at her feet. A broken replica of Skyhold, with a desire demon playing out mockeries of her life, throwing fake renditions of The Iron Bull at her to seal the pact.

Some she could clearly recall were visions, spectres of the nightmare. But others she recalled with the clarity of real memories. Her own eyes flashing azure in her reflection, attacking her friends with the armor of a demon. Bull's face staring back in dismay. Sera striking a killing blow against her. Cassandra being crushed beneath the undead.

Habrynn cried out as a tuft of hair ripped out, surprised by her own strength. She looked down at the nappy copper strands, and smeared the blood into her temple as she stared helplessly into the Frostback mountains, considering her options.

*,*,*

"GO! NOW!" Cole's voice yelled a moment before he dropped down onto The Iron Bull's table at the Herald's Rest, scattering a half dozen empty tankards and spilling the latest drink across Bull's lap.

Bull blinked back at him drunkenly. Cole's arm snapped forward and yanked him up by the shoulder-strap, as he repeated again frantically, "She needs you! Go to her, QUICKLY!"

Bull grumbled at his own body's unresponsiveness, barrelling through the door and shoving aside several confused recruits as he cut every corner between himself and the Inquisitor's chambers.

*,*,*

The breeze was strong today. It flapped her nightgown around her like a flag, repeated snaps and cracks as the wind blasted through the single layer of cotton, chilling the sweat she had developed under that heavy bearskin.

Still she didn't enjoy it. Habrynn thought she might like to see the view one more time. She had never been afraid of heights, all her life. She was afraid of ladders, of treacherous trails and rope bridges and all the shaky things AT heights, but not the heights themselves. She had always loved the view, imagining she might be doing the one thing magic still hadn't accomplished: flying. The feeling of being high above the world, and the perspective of seeing creation spread out below you like a game board was exhilarating.

But now, standing on the banister of her balcony with a strong spring wind billowing through her, she felt nothing. Her eyes drank in the beautiful pristine white peaks, the green vibrant Chantry gardens, and the impressive silhouette of Skyhold behind her.

And she felt empty. Worse than empty, she felt heavy, carved out and filled back up with sawdust. She had been taxidermied. The only answer was to make sure they couldn't put her back together again.

She contemplated the fall one last time, bringing her hands together in front of her. "Best to drop head first," She thought, "Can't leave it to chance."

She shifted her weight forward, felt the weight release, a split second of freefall before her nightgown slipped tight against her throat, and her legs crumpled sideways as her inertia was suddenly unsettled.

Her back struck against the railing, and her nightgown bundled around her chest from two points where it caught on something. She didn't want to hang! This would be the worst way to die-

"THE IRON BULL! I CAN'T HOLD HER!" Cole's voice shrieked from overhead. Habrynn had never heard such strong emotion from him. Her vision blurred and narrowed to a soft ball of light. She heard the slam of her door opening and the pound of sprinting footsteps, before she was dragged roughly back over the railing and into The Iron Bull's arms.

"NO!" She screamed, "LET ME GO!"

The Iron Bull held her firm, one arm around her neck and the other around her waist. Fury filled her now. Sawdust be damned! She thrust her elbow backward into his midsection but he didn't budge, he barely even grunted. She stomped downwards with her foot, scraped her nails into the arm he held around her throat, clenching and yanking to get air enough to scream louder.

She let out a string of Orlesian curses that would make Andraste blush, and screeched as loud as she could, "WHY WON'T YOU LET ME DIE?!" And then without thinking, she thrust her head back, and heard a satisfying grunt of pain as her horns connected with his collarbone. She fell to her knees and scrambled forward as he released her. They eyed each other, her panic facing off against a primal pain in his eye as he glanced between her, the balcony, and his own hand covered in the blood from his chest.

"I… I didn't want to hurt you," She stammered stupidly, raising her hands with palms up to him. "I'll hurt everyone eventually-"

"Vashedan," Bull growled, with a short sniff that told her he was in way more pain than he let on. "Don't you dare believe that shit!"

"I'm Saarebas. I'm dangerous," Habrynn repeated, inching her foot towards the balcony. It was useless. He was twice as fast as her even with his size. He caught her plan and moved before she even did, and caught her around the midsection with his forearm as she lunged for that exit. He tossed her back with a swing of his arm and turned and slammed the doors shut, cracking the glass inlay with the force of his swing.

She stayed on one knee, her mind fixated on the hot raw pain of the new scrape in that knee, and the warm pounding pain from within the splinted leg, cracking up towards her hip. "You came after me."

"Yes," Bull replied gruffly.

"Please… this can't go on… I'm unravelling… if I wasn't the Herald of Andraste.. if I didn't have the mark-" Habrynn broke into a choked sob.

"You think that's the only reason I'm here?" Bull grimaced. He stretched out his hand to her. "You think I went into the Fade twice for some Chantry superstition?"

She wanted to take his hand, but her fingers wouldn't bridge the gap. A name came to her lips before she could bite her tongue. "Talis...Do you know Tallis?"

Bull's composure stiffened, and he paused just a moment too long. "Who?"

"You told Varric you didn't know Tallis." Habrynn repeated. "I saw the look on your face before. You boasted about not knowing her. Now… piss and Blight… it was real! That wasn't a dream… it was a memory. YOUR memory!"

Bull didn't deny it. He just continued to stare at her with a clenched, stoney expression.

"You're _still _a spy," Habrynn whispered. "I really must be the stupidest nug in the litter-"

"Really?" Bull squinted back, "_That's _your response?"

His scrutiny was cut short by the clamor of people dashing down the hallway towards them. They exchanged a tight-lipped glare as the War Council shot up the stairs, with Vivienne trailing behind, shouting demands.

"She was concussed and bleeding internally three days ago! She should not be disturbed!" The enchantress snapped as Cullen pushed ahead.

"Inquisitor?" Cullen snapped to attention at the top of the stairs, eyeing them both warily before his gaze settled on the line of blood at the side of her face. "We heard a commotion-"

"Most of it was Bull running, mind you," Josephine tried to jut in cheerily, though it just turned her frown to a grimace. Leliana glanced to their ambassador a moment before silently scrutinizing Bull.

"This is all a misunderstanding-" Bull started, shaking his hands calmly, a soothing smirk already lighting up his face.

"Cole thought I was hurt-" Habrynn cut him off, wrapping her arms around herself to obscure the too-thin nightdress. The dozens of eyes on her felt like little fires burning through the breezy cotton. Couldn't they have dressed her in something thicker? "I wasn't… but Cole got Bull, and he caught me waking up from a nightmare…" She stumbled over her words as she stared at the diagonal scrape her horns had struck unevenly over Bull's chest. And all that blood! The cuts had clotted already, but trails of blood almost reached his waist. Seeing it more clearly again made her cringe.

"And she caught _me_." Bull paused for effect, "With her horns."

Habrynn blushed without having to act. The last few minutes were playing over again in her mind, blood pounding in her ears as despair seared her belly.

As the three of them stared dumbly, Vivienne finally tsked and pushed Cullen aside, "Could someone at least find her a robe? Really? All this noise and fuss over a waking dream? She _needs _to be resting." When Cullen only stammered back at her, she snapped her fingers and he gave a quick, "Yes, Ma'am," And began to scour the room for the elusive article of clothing.

"I, ah… could get you some tea?" Josephine added politely, her writing board in hand. It was thick with paperwork, more loaded down than Habrynn had ever seen it. She wondered how many invitations she had missed. How many countless small decisions had been set aside or opportunities missed while she was sliding downhill. But tea did sound wonderful. something to keep her head above the waters.

"Yes, I'd love-" Habrynn started.

Vivienne interrupted, "No! Sleep! I will have a tonic readied for you-"

"All right," Bull rumbled, finally stepping between her and the well-meaning loiterers. "Everybody OUT."

"But-" Josephine began, before Lelianna put an arm over her shoulder and guided her back to the stairs. Cullen had finally found her evening robe, and Bull snatched it out of his hands and physically shoved him towards the stairs. Cullen's boots squeaked protestingly as his feet slid on the wood as the the larger Qunari pushed him faster than his legs could respond. The commander stumbled into the first few steps and shouted an apology up the stairs as he regained his posture.

Vivienne eyed them both coldly, her fingertips drumming on her staff. Bull pointed his open hands to the stairs like a maitre'd. "Will you leave, ma'am?"

Vivienne tutted, but quietly sauntered back out of Habrynn's quarters, shutting the door softly as she exited.

When the door finally clicked, Habrynn was still sitting on the ground, leaned against her knees as the world spun softly behind her closed eyes. Bull offered the robe out to her, draping it over her arm when she didn't respond.

"You okay, Boss-" Bull cringed as the name came out before she even could.

"Am I?" She muttered.

"Huh?"

"Your Boss?" Habrynn finished, staring up at him with flecks of gold burning in her hazel eyes in the slanted sunlight filtering through the cracked door. "A man can't serve two masters. But I guess a Qunari can?" She thrust her head back, closed her eyes as she heard the sound of the mortar giving way to her horns, a manic smile across her face.

"Hey!" Bull snapped, curled fingers hovering over her as he wrestled with how to respond. "Are you going to beat your head against the wall or are we going to talk about this?"

"No." She replied curtly.

"No… what?" Bull growled.

Habrynn didn't reply, just stayed there with her eyes closed, rocking the back of her head against the stone, feeling the rasp of horns and hair against the coarse blocks. She could hear Bull hunker down opposite her. A soft red glow in her mind told her he was watching her, and made her stomach churn and her chest tighten up. It was a raw, hot, acidic pain of panic and indecision. She had felt it before, each time the war council came to her with an impossible choice for some far-off agent whose life might be traded for information or influence.

Finally, when she stopped hearing his controlled breaths wheezing through his nose, she heard him ask, "Do you want me to leave?"

She wanted to open her eyes, but she didn't want to look into his. She couldn't bear it right now. She choked out, "No," and they stayed sitting opposite each other, both too bound up in shared grief to cry.


	19. Unravelling the Knots

**Author's notes**

**SPOILERS! **This section of the story takes place after "Here Lies the Abyss" and Before "What Pride Hath Wrought". I've been writing this story under the assumption that you have played the game before. At this point this story diverges heavily from the main plot. A lot of what goes down is extrapolating from a variety of tidbits through all three games that explain the nature of demons, mages, magic, and possession. I took a bit of my own spin in this story, and I'm sure there's some rules I don't know about or just plain get wrong, so please forgive and keep reading.

**Please review!** This is my first time ever posting to this site. I've written and drawn other stories, but this sort of blindsided me from nowhere. I'm just hoping others enjoy the story as I try to spin it out of my head.

**LASTLY! I do not own Dragon Age or the characters, nor do I receive compensation for this work.**

* * *

Habrynn lay in bed, curled up as tight as she could, like she had been for days now. The Iron Bull had left for an hour at a time here and there, but since he had dragged her up from the balcony edge, he had made sure that any time he left to rest, someone else was watching. No one but he and Cole knew the real reason Habrynn was under watch. The rest of the inner circle simply figured it was some side effect of Rift magic or all the broken bones.

It was exhausting The Iron Bull body and soul, but nowhere near as exhausted as it made Habrynn. It was an ordeal to lift her head, to uncurl herself to roll over. Getting up just to relieve her bladder was an internal struggle that sometimes lasted for hours. Cole knew because he could hear the hurts howling within her; a discordant pit of guilt, shame and regret. The same suicidal urge that had brought her to the edge was still there. He attempted to untie it each time it surfaced. It had lead him through many mazes already. Strands of duty, friendship and love all tangled together, wearing one on another until several had snapped or tangled.

He could see where connections were severed, nearly rotted from the inside out. She was in a sad state. She blamed herself, but so much of it was tinted with the Fade, with the red of Corypheus and the black and silver of the Qun, and more still with golden ties to Orlais. He continued to coax, pausing to speak with her here and there, touching a memory in her mind, making cat's cradles in her soul. He eased out the pain, looping together warmth where kindness survived.

The Iron Bull slumbered against her back unintentionally. Cole crept over to her and knelt before her, brushing back her hair with a gentle fingertip. She opened her eyes at the touch, and watched him silently. Through her eyes he could see tight spirals connecting them together. Dust making her nose itch. The clamour of harbor traffic. An emotion severed like a knife through satin. Smooth and clean, but destroying something beautiful.

"You helped me," Cole said simply. "You made me light."

Habrynn worried, "I projected myself onto you. Thought you'd be better without the pain of being more real, like me. But you're not me... what if you would have been happy-?"

"I'm better than happy. I'm helpful. Satisfied. Unburdened," Cole whispered to her, and placed his palm to her forehead. Her skin was clammy and cold even beneath several furs, but as he touched her, he felt one strand of her sorrow uncurl. It wasn't much, but he watched her eyes droop and close, and for the first time in two days, she slept.

Later that afternoon, Cole nudged the hard center of her pain again, and stepped away so her mind would forget his presence. Her eyes fluttered open, and she spoke to the air, still facing away from Bull. "What if it was my fault?" She whispered fearfully. He could see the nature of the hurt in a brilliant emerald explosion. The sound of skittering legs and sharp pains in her lungs as she sprinted. He watched it expand into the void, a glowing eye watching her every footstep.

"Hmm?" Bull grunted. "Did you say something," He muttered, awoken from his sleep with his arm protectively over her.

"No," Habrynn muttered back. A crisp rapping at the door drew both of their attentions. Bull lumbered to the door, rubbing his eye. When he opened the heavy door, Solas was there, looking distracted and impatient.

"Our resident spirit called me here," Solas explained, "And you look like you could use the relief anyhow."

Bull glanced back up the stairs, and then brushed past Solas with an exhausted grumble.

Solas settled into a padded chair next to the bed, and shifted back and forth for a minute, before finally complaining, "This is Orlesian, isn't it? Their furniture always _appears _well padded, but inevitably is less comfortable than a sack of rocks."

A brief smirk flickered over her face, before slouching into a somber line again. "Solas… what if the Breach was my fault?"

"Impossible. You are not capable of it."

"No... listen. I've thought about it a long while. My memories of the Conclave were returned to me, but the last I saw was a burst of light as the Foci touched my hand. Even now, even after pulling myself from the Nightmare again, there is still time lost to me."

"I don't see-"

"I can close the rifts, and on occasion, I've expanded them. I did not SEE Corypheus destroy the temple. Did not _see_ him open the Breach. What if it was actually me? What if I'm only fooling myself that I can control any of this?"

"It was not you." Solas reiterated.

"But how can you-?"

"Do you trust me?" Solas countered.

Habrynn stared dumfounded, but finally nodded.

Solas smiled, "You shouldn't. I know enough about this sort of magic to tell you that the Breach and the rifts themselves originate from Corypheus. Not from _you_."

Habrynn squinted at him, "How could you know that for certain?"

"Please. Do not ask me again. We must all keep some secrets, Lady Adaar."

"Then what of the Tear? Corypheus was no where close. Look at the havoc-!"

"From what I have pieced together, I think that Corypheus was working against you through the Nightmare, still holding onto your essence. Vivienne shares my theory." Solas inhaled quietly and watched the clouds distractedly. "I have been… remiss… a poor friend to you."

Habrynn shook her head, "I understand you anger, after Adamant. I forgive you-"

"You should not," Solas snapped. Habryn glanced back at him fearfully, uncertain what she had said to anger him again. His calm demeanor returned, and he continued, "There are techniques I could have taught you. Hints I should have seen. I never should have ignored your struggle like I did. I can never undo the harm my negligence has caused.

All this confused Habrynn enough to make her sit up. "I.. what are you talking about? You couldn't have known-"

"Couldn't I?" Solas snapped. "When I walk the Fade more than any other? When I claim to understand spirits better than any other living soul? No. I could have, and I did not. And I must make amends now. We will begin your training as soon as possible. If you feel ready, we could begin today."

"Training?" Habrynn scoffed.

"Yes," Solas repeated, "Training in walking the Fade. Tranquility is NOT an option for you, nor should it be. You will always be a target for the kind of spirits who feed on darker aspects. To move forward, you must learn what I have learned. To center and ground yourself, even amidst the Fade."

Habrynn watched him speechless for a moment, and finally licked her lips and replied, "Thank you, Solas…"

"For what? It is in my own self interest to train you."

"No. Not for that. Well, that too, but… for not treating me like an invalid."

Solas smiled, "If you are no longer an invalid, then we can begin at once, yes?"


	20. Picking Her Battles

**Author's notes**

**SPOILERS! **This section of the story takes place after "Here Lies the Abyss" and Before "What Pride Hath Wrought". I've been writing this story under the assumption that you have played the game before. At this point this story diverges heavily from the main plot. A lot of what goes down is extrapolating from a variety of tidbits through all three games that explain the nature of demons, mages, magic, and possession. I took a bit of my own spin in this story, and I'm sure there's some rules I don't know about or just plain get wrong, so please forgive and keep reading.

**Please review!** This is my first time ever posting to this site. I've written and drawn other stories, but this sort of blindsided me from nowhere. I'm just hoping others enjoy the story as I try to spin it out of my head.

**LASTLY! I do not own Dragon Age or the characters, nor do I receive compensation for this work.**

* * *

"Reciprocity is the first and most important principal," Solas had pressed. "Most of the Fade is a mirror, not a window. It will show you the emotions you brought; the memories you are dwelling on, regardless of what you _seek_."

Habrynn hadn't expected Solas's lessons to help so quickly, but within a few days, the agitated spirits and tumultuous nature of the Fade around her began to calm. The rest gradually fell into place as she learned to step into sleep without expecting the worst.

"The second lesson is harder," He enunciated. "You have to remember that the Fade is insubstantial. All its power over you comes from convincing you it was real in the first place."

She tried hard to remember his words as she meditated on her own today. As she brought the Fade nearest to her into calmer focus, she began to regain some memory of her own time in the Tear, a new burden of misery to contend with as she began to understand just how much she had put her friends through, and just what was waiting in the depths of her own heart.

She recognized the touch of Empathy, the warm hands that had yanked her from the raging river to show her the truth The Iron Bull kept just below the surface.

"Another debt owed," Habrynn muttered to herself, staring back into the void. The sands sprawled out in all directions. She found if she emptied her mind, the motion stopped and the current stopped pulling her, but she did not feel the wonder or awe Solas kept trying to tell her to concentrate on. It was all she could do just to hold back her anxiety, or ignore it like an uninvited guest.

Her gaze fell to the black city, past crystalline mountains and infinite green shoreline that filled everywhere with white noise. It was hard to imagine that the calm empty place she was now was the same as the terrible angry labyrinth that she had been in just a week prior.

"It is not so empty," A voice spoke softly behind her. Habrynn spun and formed a staff from the aether before she could suppress the knee-jerk reaction. The voice was a spirit, all clad in white and glowing faintly so her features were inspecific, save for the silhouette of a spear in hand, the outline of an eye across her chest and a warrior's stiff posture.

Habrynn lowered her staff, trying to listen to the song of the veil around her for some hint of the spirit's nature. The notes were level and unchanging, more constant that the waves in the distance.

"Vigilance," The name came to Habrynn's lips before she fully understood it. The spirit nodded only slightly, and pointed Habrynn towards the black city.

She turned to respond, and found herself in the forges. With the tools put away and the fires dampened for the night, it was hard to avoid tripping in the intense dark. The boards creaked as she paced, trying to get her bearings. She oriented to the sound of paper tearing above her. As she quietly ascended the stairs, she saw Cassandra leaned over her desk, brutally yanking pages from a black-bound book.

"The account of the Seekers!" Habrynn gasped.

Cassandra marched towards the small fireplace in the upper alcove, and hovered her hand before the flames, shaking the pages in her clenched fist. She lowered her hand, raised it again, and growled.

Finally, after a tense minute staring into the flames, Cassandra collapsed back onto her bed and looked down at the pages shamefully, carefully pressing out the creases.

"The instructions for Tranquility?" Habrynn squinted as she leaned down to peer into the Seeker's open hands.

"Would that the world was simpler," Cassandra whispered, oblivious to Habrynn's gaze within the memory, "that we needed neither the poison nor the cure."

She watched Cassandra a little longer, as the Seeker carefully returned the pages to the tome, then wrote a small note to the archivist innocently asking for the best methods to mend torn pages in third-age parchment.

Habrynn turned to thank Vigilance, and awoke sitting up in her own bed in a cold sweat.

"Finally," a stern, familiar voice called from the top of the stairs. Commander Helaine stared at her with a particularly hateful set in her eyes as she strode towards Habrynn.

Bull glanced between the two of them, hands in the air like he'd already been threatened by the Knight Enchanter for a while, sitting in the same lounge chair he'd claimed since his vigil began that week.

"I am glad you are awake before we begin the final lesson." Helaine twisted her hand into Habrynn's nightshirt, before pulling a wave of kinetic energy through the Fade, and launching Habrynn over her own stair railing.

Habrynn tumbled down the stairs gracelessly, launched through the open double doors and cracking the railing as she struck the bottom. She groaned, feeling the sore spot at the back of her skull where bone met hardwood. A crackle of energy hissed from above, and Habrynn rolled to the side just before a green bolt dissolved a section of the banister.

Commander Helaine descended the stairs methodically, walking an even pace as she kept her gaze fixed on Habrynn's next position. "Honor in service, Inquisitor. Do you remember those words?" The light-framed elven woman was completely dwarfed by Habrynn, but by her commanding posture you would never guess it. The woman had dark hungry eyes that tracked you like a Wyvern.

"What is _wrong _with you?" Habrynn grimaced, propping herself against the woodwork to try and stand despite the stiff splint around her leg.

Helaine answered with a swipe of her spectral blade, drawn so fast Habrynn hardly saw the energy spark in the hilt. She rolled along the banister, avoiding the slice that split the crossbeam where she had been a moment before. Instinct and training began to finally respond. With a swipe of her arm, she bound a shield of energy around herself, glaring back at Helaine through the glowing ripple of protection.

"There. Rise to your place." Helaine commanded, striking again, this time glancing through the shielding with her spectral blade, and then catching Habrynn off guard with a kick to the gut that slammed her through the door into the entry hall of Skyhold.

Habrynn coughed, rolled away from a downward slice and curled to pull back onto her good knee at the end of the tumble. She shifted the shield to one side as Helaine struck again, hearing a reassuring pang as the blade bounced off the extra surge of energy, and scooping her arm to the side to catch Helaine around the waist and toss her into the inertia of the counter.

She stumbled to her feet, wishing more than ever that her leg wasn't in a stupid splint that kept catching at her nightgown and halting her attempts to weave and dodge. When Helaine barreled back at her, Habrynn forgot caution and snapped her fingers to the ground beneath her feet.

A circle of fire jutted out around her, knocking Helaine and a few nearby nobles back as bright orange heat engulfed her for a split second before the inferno snuffed itself out just as quickly.

Outraged whispers filled the room, forcing Habrynn to point to the entry doors, shouting "Use those overly-decorated brains of yours and MOVE!" The gathered dignitaries scurried a few paces ahead of their continued scuffle as blade met blade, trailing lines of glowing energy and buzzing a staccato tune over the ancient floorboards.

Though the fire burst had burned part of the splint to cinders, now her whole leg was sore and throbbing, like a countdown with each step and blow, reminding her that she couldn't keep the fight going for long.

Helaine grimaced as she fixed a stray hair back into her immaculate bun. "Vivienne informed me that you planned to leave the dance _early_."

"That's what this is about?" Habrynn snarled. "My plans are none of your-" her words were cut off by a renewed volley of strikes, finishing with a glancing blow that shattered her first ward, and left a trail of blood streaked behind her on the ground. She couldn't pull energy from Helaine- they were using the same abilities, weaving the same patterns in the Veil as they fought.

"Do you not stand for all of Skyhold?" Helaine spat, "For all the Inquisition? Did you think you could simply walk out on the obligation that is branded on your very soul!"

Something in her tone infuriated Habrynn, but she was in no condition for a straight-on brawl. Her foot slid back to the edge of the stone stairs, and an idea struck her. The elf surged forward, and angled overhead strike again. Habrynn tilted, falling to her knee and bracing her elbow up into the woman's advance. Ducking her head, she turned into the momentum, and tossed the smaller woman over, hearing the blade's energy burn through the stone next to her feet before she was rewarded with a surprised cry as Helaine toppled down the stairs.

As Helaine rose back to a crouch with a grimace, Habrynn began the pull along the veil that would seal her position. Helaine leapt up to her feet, but Habrynn had already begun to raise her arms up, pulling red-hot flames up from the ground, igniting a linear barrier to separate them.

Helaine spat blood and grinned quickly with red-rimmed teeth. A rush of cold leapt through Habrynn, passing from the ground to her forehead in a heartbeat. She scooped energy from around her, but Helaine had the idea first, and with a deep bass note, the veil collapsed into an entropic bubble, and the flames and both their shields were extinguished.

"Breathe," Habrynn thought, and inhaled quickly, through her teeth. "Shield," her thoughts continued, raising the barrier a split second before a percussive wave knocked her from the landing, falling hard on her shoulder but bouncing from the freshly called arc of energy.

Helaine closed the distance quickly, and Habrynn could heard the clipped memory of Shokrakar in her mind. "Just _one on one, and you're down? Stay down. Use it._" She rolled away from the blade, and kicked up against Helaine's sword arm with her good leg.

Helaine yelped at the unexpected strike, and Habrynn knocked her feet out from under her as she brought her leg back down. The Commander landed with a thud and a cough, and with a flick of her wrist, Habrynn launched the spirit hilt away with a jet of fire.

The fight dissolved into a scuffle as both women tried and failed to get back up, each kicking, tackling, and pinning the other until Habrynn finally came out on top, left hand swirling with rift energy as she brought it close to Helaine's face.

"I yield!" The elven commander shouted shrilly.

Habrynn sat back with a long sigh, staring down at her former teacher. After a long time waiting for some kind of answer, Habrynn wobbled back to her feet with as much dignity as she could muster with a multitude of injuries shouting from every part of her body.

Cheering roared to life from every side. In her battle-blindness she had failed to notice the crowd of soldiers, merchants, nobles, and every other manner of Skyhold citizen gathered around awestruck and astounded. Shouts of "Herald!," and "Inquisitor!" and "Andraste's chosen!" fought against equally loud cries of "what a fight!" and "that's our leader!" She swore she even heard snarky cat-calls of "serves the Commander right for pickin' a fight!"

Up above, watching from her private perch, Vivienne simply nodded with a small smile of admiration before returning to her morning tea. Habrynn wasn't sure if she was acknowledging her efforts or Helaine's.

High-pitched laughter began to overpower even the loudest of the shouts and applause, echoing across the courtyard from the tiny corner roof of The Herald's Rest. Habrynn finally turned with a scowl to see what was so funny as she recognized a familiar snort in the midst of the giggles.

Sera was hugging herself with merriment as she shouted, "Nice little breeches you've got there, Tadwinks!"

It only took a glance down to realize that a good portion of her sleeping clothes had blackened with her thoughtless fires. The majority of her wardrobe was treated with salts and alchemy to make them impervious to fire and lightning, but not the nightgown from the infirmary. Her arms went rigid, and her stomach tightened as the crowd of supporters began to chuckle to break the silence that grew. One man in particular thumped his neighbor on the back, pointed, and began to laugh aloud.

"You!" Habrynn snarled, arm pointed directly at the offending chuckler. He pointed to himself in return, color leaching from his features. "Oh yes, _you_. I'm commandeering your clothes."

"But, I-" He stammered.

"And I expect to see you making laps around the causeways! Five of them!" Habrynn commanded.

He continued to stammer, but Habrynn cut him off with a shout, "Do you want it to be ten? Hurry up!"

The man wasted no more time unlatching belts, dancing out of pants legs and nearly ripping buttons off his uniform under her scrutiny. As he tossed his jacket and breeches to her, she pointed to the nearest stairway, and when he did not salute, she whipped his boot with his own belt.

As he sprinted off in his undershirt and long johns, the crowd began to disperse. Helaine finally brushed herself off and grimaced as she stretched out some of the lesser injuries. They both had various gashes and scrapes with trickles of blood smeared through patches of dirt, but the the rigid little elf could never seem to look disheveled. Despite the dirt on her face and straw sticking out of her hair, she was the very model of control and calm as soon as her back went straight and her hands went behind her.

"Are you going to explain yourself, then?" Habrynn growled.

Helaine shot her a predatory smirk before returning to her steely frown. "I think you understand the message I was relaying now."

She was dumbstruck, but did not have long to ponder the incident as she heard her name called from lower courtyard. She turned to see a cloaked woman being held back by a few of the dispersing soldiers, as she struggled and stretched forward to pass through the tunnel to the upper courtyard.

"Let me pass! I must see my daughter!"

Hair like blood spilled out of the cloak's hood. A short horn peeked out, and dark skin like pine bark.

"Mema?" Habrynn gawped, already hopping in that direction as she forced on the borrowed clothes, eager to cover the tattered sleeping shirt. As she passed through the tunnel, their eyes met, and she wasn't sure she was ready for the tense reunion. But something in the look on her face must have said everything, because the guards released the older Qunari woman with bashful nods of their head, and her mother raced forward, surrounding her in a tight embrace that strained her neck and reminded her just how small she could feel amongst her own kind.

"I thought I wouldn't see you again. I haven't seen a thing since you were lost to the Fade,"

Habrynn pressed her mother to arms length, and repeated, "Wait. How did you know?"

Her mother stammered a moment before regaining her composure, "I, you see… oh dear… it's been so long since I saw you, really saw you, I forget that I never told you."

Habrynn sighed, "Is this about the visions?"

"So, The Iron Bull told you?" Ella clipped Bull's name into three segments, like she thought part of it was an honorific or title.

Habrynn snarled before she could calm herself, "Bull knew you were here? He didn't _tell_ me?"

Ella swept the draped arm of her cloak over Habrynn's back, leading them to a quieter spot in the stableyard. "Calm, forget your anger. How long has it been? More than ten years now."

Habrynn glared into the patchy yellow dirt, thinking of years scavenging old estates and travelling from town to town panhandling for work and enough to sustain herself. It was lucky she had met the Valo-Kas when she had, as the fifth Blight closed in over Fereldan, Nobles and peasants alike grew violent against anyone suspicious. The fear ironically launched the Valo'Kas's mercenary careers, giving them several years of Patrons willing to pay for a frightful silhouette to escort them to and fro, or an inhuman force to quietly deal with their petty problems as creatures far worse than rogue Tal Vashoth roamed the land.

"You look distant, imekari," Ella soothed.

"Why are you here, Mother?" Habrynn finally asked, straining to be kind despite the anger bubbling in her stomach.

Ella did not respond right away. She worried the gold pendant at her neck, closing her eyes to tap it. "Your life has lead mine, until now. I know what happened between you and Évreaux's son. Julian, was his name?"

She cringed at the way her mother spoke in past tense, "Maker's breath! He's not dead, is he-?"

"No! No… but we left that Lord's service shortly after your… incident. I made salves, healed him as best I could. The Lord couldn't accuse us directly, but… it was not the same after that. He was more unkind than ever. We left, took your brother with us... your brother," Ella trailed off, pressing the pendant to her lips like a charm, staring into the piled hay longingly.

With a sigh, Habrynn sat on one of the wide stable posts, and waved to a hay bail for her mother, "We could go back to the study, or-"

"No." Her mother waved, bundling up the trailing edge of her robes to cushion the prickly bale. "This is fine. There are too many eyes in those walls. This is better, with the sky above us."

"What happened to Aevard?"

"Ashgen*.. Ger… your father… it was hard for him. You know how he is. He has never been able to understand Orlesian well. I was there to translate for him, we were taken in by a new Patron, and your father worked to reproduce the irrigation he had designed for Evreaux. He has always been very proud of your brother. He just wanted him to be educated, like you were-"

"What happened to Aevard?!" Habrynn repeated again more fiercely.

"Aevard… he didn't take to words and numbers as you had. He does not bear the burden you do. He is not saarebas! But…"

"Did he think I abandoned you?"

Ella shook her head, pressing the tamassran symbol to her chest. "No… he tired of the Game. Your father was publicly shamed when a levy broke. Your father hardly understood what was happening. Lord Solviari did nothing to him when eyes were not looking, but your brother picked a fight with Solviari's rival, almost got himself killed… we tried to convince him not to do anything rash…"

"Was he hurt?" Habrynn stammered, "Does he need help? I have connections, I can-"

She reached a hand over to Habrynn, gripping her palm tight with shaking fingertips. "No. He took it upon himself to travel to Par Vollen…"

"P… Par Vollen?" Habrynn stammered.

"He told us he wanted to go to the Qun. He wanted to work without worry…" Ella's eyes were damp as she continued, "I pleaded with him not to. We had lost you, we didn't want to loose him as well. He seemed like he would stay, but then he disappeared one night, and left a note saying goodbye…"

And she had unknowingly sent her mother a letter asking if her brother was alright. Habrynn's heart sank, and she leaned down and hugged her mother's neck, leaning her face into her hair, hooking her hands into her brilliant curls and understanding now why she was willing to wait in a cold dreary refugee encampment.

"I'm sorry I worried you, Mema," Was all she could think to say.

_**Ashgen***_ _\- I couldn't find a good word for a mid-level worker from the Artisans/Tradesmen of the Qun, so I made a new words from some existing Qun stuff. Basically translates to 'artisan' in Qunlat._


	21. Confirmation

**Author's notes**

**SPOILERS! **This section of the story takes place after "Here Lies the Abyss" and Before "What Pride Hath Wrought". I've been writing this story under the assumption that you have played the game before. At this point this story diverges heavily from the main plot. A lot of what goes down is extrapolating from a variety of tidbits through all three games that explain the nature of demons, mages, magic, and possession. I took a bit of my own spin in this story, and I'm sure there's some rules I don't know about or just plain get wrong, so please forgive and keep reading.

**SMUT WARNING **_(I know some of you have been waiting a long time for the sexier parts to return. I hope you enjoy)_ \- Some parts of this story depict sexual acts, but I hope in a tastefully vague way (this chapter is clean aside from a few offhand references to their sex life). If you're not okay with that, then at least you were forewarned.

**Please review!** This is my first time ever posting to this site. I've written and drawn other stories, but this sort of blindsided me from nowhere. I'm just hoping others enjoy the story as I try to spin it out of my head.

**LASTLY! I do not own Dragon Age or the characters, nor do I receive compensation for this work.**

* * *

Habrynn finally returned to her room much later, after making temporary accommodations for her mother in Skyhold's barracks. Josephine and Master Dennet seemed intrigued by her descriptions of her father's work with irrigation systems. Her parents were to go to Dennet's holdings, where they might be welcomed more openly for their farming experience and domestic skills than they might be elsewhere, while still staying just a day's ride away if they needed her aid.

But Habrynn refused to let them bring her parents into Skyhold itself, despite Josephine lauding the aid her father's Qunari craftsmanship might give to the Inquisition. After the disaster at Haven, she could never allow herself to endanger her family by having them living within a military base. At the same time, Lord Solviari would waste no time taking advantage of her father once word arrived that he had the Inquisitor's father in his service. There was simply no choice but to uproot them a second time.

When the long tiring negotiation with her advisors was finally wearing down, Cullen finally summoned the nerve to ask, "Why did you not tell us about your family before? Your parents would have both been excellent aids to the Inquisition- and your ties to the Orlesian Nobility, however minor-"

Habrynn cut him off with a simple sentence, "Because Adaar is a lie. I had to keep it that way." When they asked for more, she limped back to her room, grumbling about ill fitting second-hand uniforms and shouting to the nearest steward to have a bath brought up.

Bull looked up from a copy of 'The Tale of the Second Blight' to chuckle at her return, "That fight! Now that was something! I have no idea what Helaine was thinking, but man! You can still kick ass with the best of them!"

Habrynn felt empty, tired and drained. All she could think of while looking at his casual expression was her mother's worried face and shaking grip on her hands. The accusation left her before she could even filter it, "My mother spent two weeks in the cold, in a tent in the dirt in Skyhold's yard with the common refugees because you didn't think to _mention _it to me?"

"Oh. That. I didn't-" He began.

"Didn't think?" Habrynn snapped, "Didn't think that maybe, just maybe, I would like to know that the mother I haven't seen in twelve years was WAITING for me?"

"Hey." Bull grumbled, "Those twelve years were _not my fault_!"

Habrynn fumed, but couldn't look away. He had shoved a hot poker into a nerve she had long thought dead. "Are you saying this is my fault because I left home? Or are you saying it's not a big deal that you didn't even let anyone know she was here? They've had her in the quarantine tents because they thought she was mad for claiming to be the Inquisitor's mother!"

"I had more important things to worry about! Like YOU!" Bull growled, knocking the chair aside as he stood and marched towards her. She stepped back nervously, and the energy changed around them. What had begun to feel like an angry seed of need froze in an instant, reminded of the Balcony and secrets.

Habrynn whispered low, staring down at her bare feet. They were filthy from a day spent in another person's clothes, dragged from responsibility to responsibility as soon as she stepped out into the daylight. She wanted to smirk at the irony. Everyone was eager for the Inquisitor's attention, and either they didn't dare mention her lack of footwear, or they were too insistent to have her solve their problems for them to notice. But her heart was heavy, and her mouth was fixed in a frown. "I… can't pretend nothing's changed."

Bull looked at her hesitantly with a wide eye, "Vashedan… what is this?"

But only silence answered him. She continued to look down at her feet.

He stepped forward, reaching for her shoulders, but she avoided his touch, clinging to her chest to keep the buttons tight. He sniffed a growl and threw his head back, "What do you want me to say?"

"Tell me you're really _happy_…" Habrynn growled through clenched teeth and eyes shut tight.

"Is this a trick?" Bull snapped, "A joke? Or do I not understand Common as well as I thought I did?"

"You told me," Habrynn licked her lips, throat and chest tightening with concern, "That whatever you regretted… this is where you wanted to be."

Bull grew silent as she continued, "I'm not… there's no way to sugar coat this! I wish you were mine. Just _mine_! I wish I didn't have all kinds of bullshit for you to deal with, and I wish that the Qun wasn't breathing down your neck for the rest of your life but that's how it IS. Asking you to leave the Qun again is a death sentence for you, and probably me as well."

Bull just shook his head, "You're thinking too far-"

"Am I?' Habrynn snapped. "I may not think much of my own life, but I care about you, Bull. And I don't want to just be your… coconspirator!"

"But," Habrynn murmured, running fingers tight through her hair, snagging on bits of hay and strands clumped by dirt and blood from the morning's fight, "I can pretend… in the end, it's not much different than when I first met you. Only, you were straight with me back then-"

"Hey!" Bull growled,"That's not fair-"

"Isn't it?" Habrynn snarled before glaring, "You were more honest with a stranger than your lover."

He pondered with a distant, broken look on his face, "Alright. Maybe that _is_ fair."

"I want a favor… _need_ a favor," Habrynn continued. "It's my brother. I found out today… that he left to join the Qun about a year ago."

"Really?" He laughed. A single guttural cough echoing out of his chest, "Didn't even know you had a brother."

"This isn't a joke," she pleaded, "Can you get him out?"

Bull scoffed, "Short answer? No. Long answer? Vasbas'an NO!" He chopped the air for emphasis as he ranted, "If he wasn't your brother? If this was recent? MAYBE he could choose to leave on his own."

Habrynn bit her thumbnail as she stared into the masonry, her eyes growing hotter and damper with each word. Bull continued, a frustrated scowl growing as he began to pace. "You haven't seen him in a decade. And you're the Inquisitor! Trying to drag him out would paint a target on his back and yours!"

"I just," she croaked, "just want to know that he's _alive_… that he's all right..."

She covered her face as she desperately tried to hold back the tears, only succeeding in crushing them into suffocated coughs and hiccups with an all too obvious wet sound. Bull grumbled and snorted, tossed his head as he scratched a fussy spot at the back of one horn. "Ugh… fine. I'll try. I can't promise anything. This shit is so complicated now. What happened to the Habrynn who kills bandits and slays dragons?"

She looked back at him pitifully, sniffing to clear sinuses clogged by tears. "That Habrynn is dead… she died in the Fade. An abomination stepped out in her place."

Bull glared back at her, "Stop that."

She continued, "Now I have to learn to pretend to be her again…"

With a single long stride Bull closed the gap, grabbed her arms and shoved her into the bed, a hand already sliding up to her neck. "Not another word." He put a hand into her shirt, already open nearly to the waist to accommodate the difference between a large human man and a small qunari woman. Buttons clinked against the floor after he yanked, and Habrynn admonished, "Bull!"

He just frowned back, hovering over her stomach, eyeing her chest where one breast still lay partially obscured, and the other stood proud and suspiciously erect.

"This isn't my uniform," Habrynn hissed.

A smile slowly curled onto his face. "Well, we'd best get it off you, then-"

"That's not what I mea-ahnt!" Habrynn yelped as he thrust a fist between her legs, shoving upwards to push her up onto the bed by her hips, force pressing into her stronger than she'd felt in weeks. She could already feel her body responding from just that first blunt impact. What was normally an intoxicating distraction was irritating now. She felt confused by him, physically needing him with every nerve and inch of skin, but wanting to throw him out the window at the same time.

The hand at her throat pressed down into her collarbone, dragged down her chest, pressing the open-front tunic aside to crush a nipple in his competent fingertips. She cried out despite her anger, her hips bucking into the grip of his other hand as he fumbled to remove the breeches.

Pain shot out from her thigh as her right knee connected with his stomach. She cried out again with real pain edging her voice. Bull coughed from the knock to his abdomen, and paused, searching her face as her cry subsided and Habrynn remained glaring up at the ceiling.

"You know the word," Bull reminded.

Habynn scowled back and yanked the belt from the loops of the breeches in one move, arching her back to make room. It was one of those rare moments she missed her normal pants - men's hip seams were full of weird overlaps, folds and ties, and the shaping was all wrong, digging in to her hips all day and loose in the most unflattering places.

With a smile Bull cupped her her butt cheeks into his hands and yanked the pants away. Habrynn wasn't sure how to feel as his gaze trailed over her. Her own pain pricked and throbbed from her shin to her thigh and up through her ribs where the bones were still knitting, but a deeper pain burned the back of her heart, weighing her down. It had taken her this long to understand that it wasn't her pain at all, but Bull's that she was feeling. The sensation was blisteringly raw and deep red with longing, but tinged with sticky blackness and chilled with an older fear.

Bull slowly crushed her nipples between the first joints of his fingers, tugging enough to coax her to sit up to avoid a stronger pain. She grimaced as her leg throbbed again with the pressure of sitting up, but soon the pinch at her nipples brought her from that pain into a more pleasant one.

A soft moan, a cut-off whimper, and soon Habrynn's eyes were rolling back behind her eyelids as he toyed with her breasts. He leaned into her, knee pressing between her legs as he bent down to bite from her ear down to the nape of her neck. "You're that turned on?" He chuckled.

With a growl she tossed her head to the side, swallowing a gasp as he pinched her nipples harder again, tugging lightly to enunciate a twist. He laughed breathily at her response, and trailed down to her chest to suckle one of the abused buds, gradually teething harder.

"Mo Daieu," Habrynn sighed. With a sudden nip from his mouth, she yelped and then whimpered as he returned to a softer nibble. Her fingers traced over his horns, gripping fast as he pinched harder for a moment, rocking her hips against his knee needily. She hated how he could toy with her. It took every ounce of willpower to remember that she was mad at him, but each time he bit or twisted, urgency overcame fury a little more.

Bull finally moved his mouth from her abused breast, leaving small kisses in a trail up her neck, before holding her head to his, hungrily capturing her tongue with his own. When the kiss finally broke as she gasped, she knew the battle of wills was over, and she had given up before it had even met the halfway point.

With a mocking whisper, he chastised her, "Aren't you worked up?"

She tried to shove him away, but she ended up with her back on the covers with him grinning victoriously down at her. "It'd take care of it myself!" She growled, "But I haven't had a moment alone for two weeks!" She slapped a hand to her own mouth as soon as she'd said it.

Far from angry, he seemed eager to hear more. "That so?" he purred. With a smooth slide, he brought his feet back to the floor, and slipped her small cloths down her legs. "Show me how you satisfy yourself when I'm not around."

Habrynn peeked at him through clasped hands, shaking from the cold of nakedness and revelation. "Right now?"

"Sure," he chuckled, bending down to scrutinize her intimate folds. "How often do you please yourself, then?"

Habrynn's voice cracked to a squeak, "Honestly?!"

He squinted back at her, taunting her with a cat-like grin. "Yeah. Give me all the lovely _sordid _details." She glanced away, burning beet red from breasts to temples. With a primal grunt he rumbled, "That often? Dirty girl!"

"It's not like _that_! It's been two months since I touched myself, alright!" She snapped.

Bull continued to leer, "Two months? You must be-" until realization dawned on him.

"Yeah," Habrynn spat, "I haven't needed to touch myself with you around!" Bull watched her silently with that unknowable look in his eyes. She nervously continued, "I just… it's not as good… nothing's as good as you. Not for me..."

"Here," He snapped, pointing to the edge of the bed. She didn't think twice, she scooted forward as best she could despite the way her leg was growing stiffer. She grasped his arm before she understood why he offered it out. He tugged and she toppled forward, and with a little reposition in mid-movement, he had her ass-up across his lap before she understood what had happened.

She wiggled uncertainly, trying to peer back at him. He kept one hand firmly between her shoulders, and the other began to caress the other end of her backside, drawing spiraling trails towards the crevice of her butt.

"Now," He inquired, "What were you saying before?"

Her body went tense, arms pinned in with her hands pressed under her own shoulders like a roasted hen and her legs propped up by her toes. Her right leg immediately went limp as a jolt of pain reminded her of all the abuse it had endured that day, and how far it still had to go in healing. She grumbled something offensive into the covers about where Bull could go for answers, and was rewarded with a loud smack across her buttcheeks.

At her reflexive yelp, Bull chuckled warmly, "You were saying something before about how good I was?"

She clenched her hands into the furs and growled. Another smack replied to her non-verbal challenge, and then another. Bull's eyes were fixated on the flex of her back as she continued to whimper and grit her teeth, until as he laid the last smack harder the then first few, she turned her head to the side to glance up at him and released a pleasant whimper.

The edge of Bull's mouth curled up wickedly as he bit his lip. "That so?" The hand that had pressed her back down before reached under to find her breast again, and pinched while his other hand pressed lines over the red-hot flank he had just been spanking. His fingers curled under and found her dripping wet and already warm and inviting.

Her whimper lowered to a husky sob of need as he rocked downward, stroking from her nub to her entrance back and forth, pausing a moment to spread her open to gaze at his own handywork.

He watched as she closed her eyes and grinned, lost in his touch, until he withdrew his hand, tracing a wet line back up her bottom. "Now," he drolled, "where were we?"

She shot daggers back at him with her eyes, and began to wriggle away. With a deft hand he pinched the nipple he still held, and she gasped as he returned to stroking her. His tempo was even and unhurried as he watched her anger dissolve into distraction again. This time he continued longer, twisting several fingers in, and then spreading her lips further to swirl his hand against her clit, tempering his attentions to the faces she made as he continued to toy with her.

It was getting difficult even for him to stay focused, as she rocked her hips into his digits she inadvertently rubbed her warmth over his hard-on. Even with his pants still on, her desire was infectious. Once again, he withdrew his hand, but this time, he reached to unfasten his belt. She glanced up at him expectantly, a confused flick of her eyes between the mattress and him as he opened his pants and reached inside to grip his erection. "Tell me again why you haven't touched yourself in over two months."

His right hand returned to her breast, idly pinching, just a little at a time, rolling the hard bud between his fingertips as he began to stroke himself within his pants, pressing the head against her mound through the fabric, brushing back and forth across her cleft.

He moan was little more than a loud breath at first. As the minutes wore on and he did nothing more than barely tease her as he pleased himself, she finally panted, "It was you."

"Louder," Bull demanded.

A whimper, then silence, and then a hitch in her breath as he rocked his hips up the tiniest bit. "Anjun clé!" She pled, "Tailler es … jun."

His fingertips coaxed into her scalp, clenching her hair to lift her face, "You know I _love_ to hear that accent, but I want to hear it _clearly_."

She gulped for breath, licked her lips and explained, "You carved a lock… you are the key." with a sigh, she closed her eyes and pushed into his grip."It''s an old Orlesian ballad. What good are my hands, when I have yours? Why imagine a lover, if I … have you?"

He lifted her to her knees, hand still gripping her hair, holding her so she only saw him through the edge of her vision. She winced as her weight settled on her leg, but it was only a moment before he repositioned her with a scoop of his arm. He rotated, and settled her on his lap, their hips parallel as she faced away from him, before he leaned back into the headboard.

When he pushed his pants off the rest of the way, she sniffed sarcastically, "Done with the interrogation?"

"Not quite," He whispered into her ear. "Lean back."

For a moment she froze, glancing at the bright pink wounds freshly healed across his chest. He pulled her back despite her resistance, and she was surprised that sitting on his lap, her head aligned just above his shoulder, avoiding scraping him as her back eased against his chest.

"Lean back," He repeated. She did as he asked, and he raised her legs with a gentle hand under each thigh, until she was straddling him, each leg over his so she could barely move except to twist her hips a little.

With the slightest thrust of his hips, his rod slid across her valley, compelling her to reach down. He extracted her hands before she could connect, and lead them to her sides, placing them to his hips as he growled into her neck, "Not yet. You didn't finish."

He didn't use this position often. Usually he wanted her skin to be raw, to be in a place where he could pound her; grip and crush and feel every inch buried to the hilt in an instant, but the way she was avoiding that leg, it seemed the funnest way to keep her in place while he continued the game. The best part of this spot was that she couldn't bring them together without her hands or his help.

Just a few more undulations of his hips sliding his length across hers and she was almost howling, "Maker's Fire, Bull! Are you this egotistical?"

He just sunk his teeth into the muscle where her neck met her shoulders, sucking hard enough to mark the skin, and savoring the shiver that coursed up her back as his canines traced fine white lines through her golden skin..

"Well you win!" She cried, "I want to feel your cock inside me! Every night since I left I thought of you. The way you pin me down, leave bruises with your hands griping my-" Her words descended into an uneven moan as he reached around to take her breasts in hand again, clasping the tips and leaning his hands away to tug them just enough to elicit a new higher cry.

"You leave me too weak to move, let alone masturbate," She exclaimed. "I want to feel your blood pumping against mine! Your teeth in my skin, unf!" She grunted as he pressed his shaft against her, grinding his turgid length over her entrance and clit as he rolled his hips underneath her.

She groaned out her arousal, and her hand snapped up to his horn, tugging at him to pull them together more tightly. Her horns slid over his shoulder as she arched against him, leaning her face up to his as she closed her eyes and babbled ecstatically,"You make me feel amazing. Like I'm going to break apart, or melt. Sometimes it's all I can do not to burn Skyhold to the grou-ahnd!" She gasped as he coaxed the helm of his cock into her, the position grinding into her quim at an angle that made it hard to speak, hard to even think as pressure exploded against her center.

It was all he could do to hold back as she squeezed around him with her hand clenching his hip. The way she was close to sobbing as he rutted against her was maddening. Each thrust and motion was his, and at first he rocked slow but powerful, but the way she continued to entice him with her reverant praises made him burn at her touch, alight with their shared sweat, eagerly memorizing each twitch of her lips, the strained pinch of her eyebrows, the streched curve of her neck as she tethered herself to him. Each response to his pinches was succulent, each moan at a rough caress was exhilarating, until he could barely keep his eyes open as he clenched her hips as he pounded into her.

"Please, Maker, please, Bull, your hands, please-"" She whimpered between racing breaths. He thrust his fingers down through her hips, lifting and spreading her outer lips as he grunted into her neck, snorting and gulping in breaths as he tried to concentrate on the distance, hoping the stained glass might delay the inevitable peak, all the while dragged back by her voice, using his name as an exaltation and cry of defeat in one.

"Tell me what you need," He growled, twisting to take her ear in his teeth, holding her still, savoring the way she cringed as he flicked a finger over her bean experimentally, cruelly withholding the strokes he knew she needed. She started to tug away, was caught by his fangs in her earlobe, and panted in time with his breath filling her hearing.

"I-ah," She cried, moaning and keening painfully, words broken and spiked with pleasure, "I need you, Bull-" She squeaked as he flicked softly and bit down just a little harder. "The Iron Bull, touch my clit. Please, help me come-" Her voice descended into a non-verbal undulating cry as he pressed in, cupping into her and swirling as he thrust harder, glad that she broke before he crossed the precipice himself.

Her groans extended, jumped in pitch and then broke into a gasp, before she frantically announced her climax in a race of syllables he could hardly make out, Orlesian and Common and even a few bursts of Qunlat mixing together in a growling slur. A tense burst of fire in his groin, and he pounded into her for the grand finale, impressed by the stamina voice as she wailed incoherently in a long breath, warbling into soft sobs as he thrust a little longer to complete his peak, breathing heavy in her ear as he slowed, savoring the way his nerves flared as he pressed past his climax and hers lingered around him.

"I love you!" She sobbed, gulping in breaths as her hips clenched and the rest of her went limp against him, her horns hooked over his shoulder as she exhaled a long contented sigh.

Bull slowly withdrew his hand from her cleft, inhaling slowly to appreciate the scent of coppery sweat and pyrophite, fresh linen and the overpowering musk of their love-making. He tried to ignore her words and just linger in that comfortable moment with her weight balanced over his, connected together through a primal, physical bond that was shrinking by the moment, even as the warm slick residue remained where his hand idly massaged her hip.

"Bull?" Habynn asked fearfully.

He grunted back quietly, and she repeated, "Bull. I… umm... I can't move."

He chuckled at her planned helplessness, and rolled his hips against the back of hers once and then twice, smiling at the quiet hum of pleasure even his softened cock elicited from her. With a gentle lift of his arms, he extricated her legs from around his, and looked down at the leg where the splint had been before, where a soft purple bloom was spidered over her skin.

She looked down with him, chuckled, tried to move the leg and then winced to show that it wasn't a good idea at all. He helped her settle back into bed, avoiding her gaze, because each time their eyes met, it was like those last words repeated again in his mind.

_I love you._

He couldn't bring himself to reciprocate. Even knowing that the dragon's tooth lay just beside his bed every night, confirming her feelings before the words were ever spoken. Even knowing the inscription she had written for him. Even with all they had been through, a wall still held in his mind and heart, unmoving despite the bond they had forged against his best intentions.

She snatched his hand as he rose from the bed, "Amon… Bull," She asked, "You're still staying the night?"

He looked down at her two hands, grasping his. Her hands were delicate, the smallest he'd seen on any Qunari. But they were strong, agile and remarkably smooth for all that fire she threw around. As she rubbed her fingertips from his wrist to his knuckles, he could feel her father's gifts there, the pin-point touch of an artisan, at the end of arms marred by a decade of battles and harsh wilderness.

"Yes," He soothed, turning his hand to set hers back in her lap. "You should rest."

Even after the last toss in Habrynn's fitful attempts to calm herself to rest, he found himself pacing the upper loft of her room long into the dark of night. The reflection off the mountain snows illuminated the gloom, enough to see the curve of her horns and the arc of her shoulder beneath the furs. He was mesmerized by the slow rise and fall of her breaths, chained by a desire in his heart that he didn't dare name.

Rest wouldn't come to him even as he heard the midnight shift switching in the yard. he lit a small candle, and began to write to Par Vollen. He doubted the knowledge would ease her pain as much as she thought it would. But unlike the heart, it was a simple question to answer.


	22. The Haven of My Dreams

**Author's notes **\- a short connector chapter, before the final storyarc winds down.

**SPOILERS! **This section of the story takes place after "Here Lies the Abyss" and Before "What Pride Hath Wrought". I've been writing this story under the assumption that you have played the game before. At this point this story diverges heavily from the main plot. A lot of what goes down is extrapolating from a variety of tidbits through all three games that explain the nature of demons, mages, magic, and possession. I took a bit of my own spin in this story, and I'm sure there's some rules I don't know about or just plain get wrong, so please forgive and keep reading.

**Please review!** This is my first time ever posting to this site. I've written and drawn other stories, but this sort of blindsided me from nowhere. I'm just hoping others enjoy the story as I try to spin it out of my head.

**LASTLY! I do not own Dragon Age or the characters, nor do I receive compensation for this work.**

* * *

After seeing her fight with Helaine, the war council assumed she was well enough to take on normal duties again. One look at her newly swollen leg told Cullen she wasn't up for training and assessing the troops, but that didn't stop Lelianna from giving her reports from the field and showing her the latest revelations on Calpernia. In turn, Josephine sent up stack after stack of paperwork.

There were official notices from affronted nobles claiming their lawns were damaged while Habrynn closed a fade rift. Letters from questionable rebels seeking to join the Inquisition, or worse, not-so-secretly wanting pay to keep one perceived secret or another silent. She made a note to talk to Sera. The Friends of Red Jenny had a way of quieting coin-fingering gossip mongers, sometimes with blood, but usually with befouled cooking and nicked clothing.

It had been a week since she saw the quirky elf. Aside from her observation in the yard, she hadn't seen her friend even once. Not even a letter or a doodle thrown via paper hawk through her window.

The papers went on and on. After Habrynn had randomly picked up an official inquiry here and there from the stacks, she finally noticed the ribbons sticking out from the piles, marking the type and date of each section. A whole stack of them were just labelled, "please sign and seal on the line."

"Josephine is a sadistic woman," Habrynn pondered out loud. The Antivan knew full well that Habrynn couldn't bring herself to sign anything without reading it first. As a mage, contracts of any kind made her nervous.

The stacks never seemed to end. As she yanked at an errant form from the middle of one pile, the whole tower fell over, covering her in parchment and knocking over several vials and bowls in the process, covering the rough timber flooring in fragrant poultices and foul smelling concoctions.

It didn't surprise her when she found herself in Adan's shack, with an itch in her right arm like it was pressed against something dry, even after she stood up and took in her surroundings. "Probably fell asleep on my paperwork," she mumbled.

Solas was already with her in the Fade, leaned against the doorway looking out on the ghostly mirror of Haven with a sad nostalgia hanging on his face. She couldn't blame his melancholy. They stood in the recollection of a home of a dead man. Adan had burned to death when a roof timber gave way, trapping his leg when he had already made it outside.

Minaeve had died nearby, but more quickly as an alchemical pot exploded unexpectedly in the growing heat. She had been so close to reaching them both that the explosion had splashed across her. she still bore a pink mark curled around one elbow where the caustic flames burned through her clothes. Between the blizzard and the injuries that night, she hadn't taken note of it for weeks afterwards.

"Do you remember our conversations?" Solas mused, staring out into the soft snowfall, fixed on a point just before the stone steps down to the lower curve that followed the outer fortifications.

"Here?"

Solas confirmed with a nod, "Back before we saw the true face of our enemy." He stepped out, his simple staff crunching into the snow with an off-and-on tempo. Soft, then a hard clink as the upper decoration settled, a pause and a soft sound again. "I told you that posturing was necessary. It is more important now than ever. I noticed a difference in you, even before Adamant and your fall into the Fade. You take too much on yourself. You are a leader, with countless resources and people beneath you. You will never again be a solitary mercenary, always a step away from shackles."

It was easy to tell he was lost in some memory of his own as he spoke. The spirit Empathy had shown her strange gifts lately. She was just beginning to grasp their use and shelter herself from the ill effects of them. A certain amount of emotional bleed from everyone around her was becoming commonplace, like the ripples in a pond sounding the boulders as you waded through. But all she could feel form Solas was a resolute wall. Perhaps it was the Fade, and his experience with intangible snoops, or perhaps he he was more knowledgeable than he let on, as usual.

Solas finally continued, "At the time we spoke of heroes and leaders, but the advice is also true of Mages."

"How so?" She crossed the small yard with him, each walking opposite rows around the stack of stores that were piled between the semicircle of buildings.

"Cole tells me many things. It seems you've worried him a great deal lately."

Habrynn appreciated the cool wind as her neck flushed hot. She was hit by a memory of weightlessness, choking on her own collar, her nails digging at Bull's skin and the scrape of stone against her horns.

Solas continued, "But I did not need him to tell me that you feared yourself an abomination."

His grey eyes bored into hers, until she cut the tie and growled at the distance, "It's not a fear. It's the truth. You've seen my spirits with your own eyes."

"Indeed, I have. Perhaps we have watched two different plays?"

"That Habrynn is dead," repeated in her head again.

It was a truly stupid moment of honesty. Bull didn't need her self-pity. He had no use for it. She had seen the way he bore his teeth at the merest whisper of the word 'demon' since escaping the Fade at Adamant Fortress. She wanted to scare him away. She wanted him to leave her to her fate, but he stayed. His determination to ignore her warnings lit a fire in her she couldn't reason out.

Solas snapped his fingers. "Focus, Lady Adaar."

She nodded, looking around at Haven. "Right. Lesson time?"

He addressed the encampment with a wave of his staff. "You don't think it odd that we are here again? Unfinished business perhaps?"

She squinted, "I was just thinking… I was reminded today of how different I was three months ago when this all began."

"Aren't we all? Mortals are not static like the denizens of the Fade."

He must have seen how she clenched up at his comment, because he walked past her towards the frozen lake. "Despite the Chantry's black and white view, the real situation of mages is not so simple. Take the Harrowing they put circle initiates through. They call a demon _into _the Mage's soul. How do you suppose they do that?"

Habrynn shrugged, looking down into the dark crystallized depths of the frozen waters, "I always figured blood magic… it seemed the most ironic."

Solas smiled. "True. But still. Demons do not simply exist willy-nilly across the Fade. Certainly, more wait where Mages gather, eager to take advantage of a chink in their emotional armor. But into their _soul_? Did that not ever concern you?"

Habrynn shrugged again, but his words gnawed at her. "I wasn't raised in a circle. What instruction I gleaned over the years was more of the 'burn that, don't burn that' variety. I just figured I didn't know all the specifics..."

Solas chuckled, "Ah… well, the simple answer, is they need not find it. They need only corrupt an existing spirit. Rile up the ones that already reside there."

She stammered, "I…. what are you saying?"

"Each and every child with the talent for magic has that because they have already opened a door in their soul to a spirit or demon. Each and every one. The Harrowing is a barbaric practice that teaches us to fear and destroy ourselves. Mind you… I have never heard of one who held three spirits in tow before. It is a rare and very unstable gift. Combined with the Foci, It is amazing nothing happened before now."

Habrynn stared out at Haven, and chuckled. Deep below the glacial ice she thought she saw a sunny glow, and the outline of a small flower.

Solas continued, "It is of dire importance that you listen to my next words. Do _not _attempt to end your life again. You think you are a danger alive, but you cannot imagine the destruction that those spirits would inflict if they were all turned to demons. Your living form would not be needed, they could make use of the Anchor and the gate that exists in your soul to terrible effect."

Habrynn continued to a laugh, unable to stop herself as tears blurred her vision. It seemed like such a cruel irony, to be fenced in from either edge of the Fade. The laugh continued into a manic hysteria until she was sobbing from uncontrollable giggles.

The ice cracked beneath them both like an earthquake, swallowed them both into dark waters before bathing them in brilliant golden light.


	23. The Inquisitor's New Clothes

**SPOILERS! **This section of the story takes place after "Here Lies the Abyss" and Before "What Pride Hath Wrought". I've been writing this story under the assumption that you have played the game before. At this point this story diverges heavily from the main plot. A lot of what goes down is extrapolating from a variety of tidbits through all three games that explain the nature of demons, mages, magic, and possession. I took a bit of my own spin in this story, and I'm sure there's some rules I don't know about or just plain get wrong, so please forgive and keep reading.

**Please review!** This is my first time ever posting to this site. I've written and drawn other stories, but this sort of blindsided me from nowhere. I'm just hoping others enjoy the story as I try to spin it out of my head.

**LASTLY! I do not own Dragon Age or the characters, nor do I receive compensation for this work.**

* * *

Habrynn awoke to a bottle of ink thoroughly stained through the bear skin, the quilt, and her dressing robe. Her arms draped over the lap desk and Light from every doorway filled her eyes, piercing white glinting back off the Frostbacks. She shivered as the bearskin slipped off her, and the full attack of the glacial air hit her skin. The balcony doors hadn't been open for over a week. As her eyes adjusted to the dazzling noon-day light, Dorian's chipper voice called out from above her.

"Sorry. It was so damned muggy when I got here! I got distracted by your amazing collection, and didn't even feel the cold!"

Dorian sauntered down the inner stairs, the majority of his attention still glued to the tome he was reading, "My apologies for the surprise. Bull told me I had to come watch you. The man was addled and spouting something about spirits at the time. 'Don't let her out of your sight.' Those were his exact words!" He ended with a chirp of a laugh, and clapped the book shut.

"I swear," Dorian shivered, "That hulk of a man looked like he'd cleave me in half if you sneezed without me documenting it! He may have been sleep deprived, but when a Qunari that big tells me to do something with _that _tone of voice, I'll do it. Also!" He emphasized the last word by flopping onto her bed, shaking the writing tray and scattering paperwork in his wake.

He extended his arm to wave a particularly old book in her face, trimmed in red and decorated with a large circular seal embossed in scuffed gold leaf. "It seems the archivist hasn't accounted for your books in the ledgers! I found a copy of '_Liberalum Sanguina Morticant' _that, according to Skyhold's records, was destroyed in Haven!"

"I didn't realize," Habrynn blinked back at him, failing to match his impossible energy level. "If you need it, take it. It's yours."

"You do realize this is a centuries-old study of _advanced_ blood magic?" Dorian queried cautiously.

Habrynn raised an eyebrow with a tired smirk, "So why were you seeking it? You hate blood magic more than anyone I've met."

"With good reason!" Dorian scoffed and rose, pacing the end of her bed, "And I sought it because some of the principles are applicable to the Mortalitasi arts! What was it doing in YOUR possession?"

"Oh, I've already read it," Habrynn held up her fingers and continued to smirk out of habit, "Three times."

He shot her a disdainful frown as he continued to pace the foot of the bed, "I was told that the Knights Enchanter must forswear all the darker arts!"

She shrugged, and attempted to extricate herself from the stained writing pile. "Reading about forbidden magic lets you to know exactly where the line is so you don't accidentally step over it."

He paused mid-way to a lecturing finger-pointing, and stammered, "That… is not an entirely terrible point. But more importantly. I have presents for you!"

"Presents?" Habrynn squinted at him. "My name day isn't for months-"

"I jest. Three packages came for you. They may as well be presents, though. They are from Val Royeaux, and bear a designer's insignia! I insist on seeing you open them!"

One of the benefits of being bedridden was her wardrobe. Habrynn had always detested the suit they had fashioned for her. Ever since she had awoken in it after almost expending her life force to close the Breech, she had chafed at the overly tight neckband and glared at the excess of cut glass that ornamented the two piece skin-tight monstrosity.

But she had continued to wear it. When the eyes of the entire Inquisition were always upon her, silently judging her worthy of living or not, she just assumed that complaining for a better outfit was ill advised. It was ironic that The Iron Bull's attentions had forced her to request new clothing. Twice. To her infinite frustration, the Inquisition's head tailor had produced for her the same outfit. Twice.

When she had approached the man with carefully-contained agitation, he had replied with an understanding nod and reassuring platitudes, and then returned the same outfit to her again, with minor alterations. Though it did chafe less and did have a few less gaudy gems embedded in uncomfortable places, it remained the same bland color that blended far too close to her own skin. And it was hot! It covered every square inch of her! In suede!

When she looked at herself in the mirror, all she saw were rows of gems over her naked skin, smoothed out a little for modesty. The ghastly sight reminded her of an old legend her mother had made her learn about an emperor tricked into wearing nothing at all, and leading a march through his own kingdom. His own people dare not complain, so he was oblivious to the trick until a beggar child pointed and laughed at him.

Now she was that emperor, with a people obedient to a fault. But while she had been 'indisposed', as Josephine liked to term it, no one had bothered to make her wear anything more than her small clothes and lounging robes (especially after her nightdress had been destroyed fending off Hellaine's demonstration). It had been bliss at first, but the dread of her official outfit hung over her.

It seemed like Dorian could read her mind as he shoved the paperwork aside mercilessly and dropped the boxes next to her lap. "Here, it's certain to be no worse than your current uniform, right?"

Habrynn flashed a tired smirk, "The robes, that red dress sack they made for me, or the leather torture device?"

He gave her robes an up-down glance, and cringed, "All of them. You look like some kind of cow, now! Um, pardon the insult… what I mean is you'll never get that black out of the silk. Let alone the covers."

She sighed and inspected the packages. Three thin boxes all wrapped together with silk ribbons, and a tag with hand-written script simply saying it was "a gift of the Marquis de Palloinne." She thought she remembered seeing such a name during one of her jaunts through Val Royeau seeking out new weapon designs or tailoring instructions.

"Will you open them already? I'm dying from excitement over here!" Dorian tittered.

Habrynn smirked over at him, and set the card aside. Pulling the ribbon's bow, the wrapping fell away like a flower, and the first box revealed was covered in roses and decorative scrolls of thorns. On this box was a note that read in small text, "For Monsieur The Iron Bull, per your instructions."

Habrynn glanced to Dorian for answers, but he merely shrugged. Her curiosity got the better of her, and she pulled the top off with a soft swish, and dropped it to the floor in shock. The box contained a … garment… for lack of better description. The fabrics were all very lovely. dark violet lacework like the night sky knitted together curled throughout it bound by glistening black leather straps and precise little silver clasps.

Her face flared red from collar to horns as she stared at the skimpy, confining design, noting several sturdy blackened steel attachments that she could already imagine Bull making inventive use of. Dorian laughed uproariously at her response, and neither of them regained their composure for a while. With an exasperated snort, she put the lid back on the box and dropped the whole stack on her end table.

"Come now," Dorian chided. "You MUST try them on! It is not every day you get a stack of new outfits from an Orlesian designer!"

"I don't know if you can call three strips of leather and a pile of embroidery an outfit," Habrynn grumbled.

He looked her over for a moment and then grabbed the chair next to hers, spun it around and crossed his arms over the top of the back, looking at her over the top. "Really? You would deny me the pleasure? Please tell me you are not feeling… _embarrassed_ in my presence? I feel as much desire for you as I might my own mother or sister-"

"Not helping," Habrynn growled, and yanked her dressing gown around her waist tighter.

Dorian pouted, "Well fine then. At least open the next two. I'm interested to see how many tactless ways they could display your larger than life figure."

She shot him a deathly glare, but set the top box aside and looked at the note on the next. A small stamp-cut paper simply read, "Our compliments." The box was lavender with curled pale lilac wisps sprawled across the surface.

"The boxes are lovely, at least," Habrynn smirked. Dorian waved his hands to urge her on, and she pulled the lid off with another pop of air. This time, they both breathed in quietly as they looked at the contents. The fabric shimmered mauve and amethyst, edged with a pristine white lace that glinted like fresh snow.

"I would not have thought you in purple, but that light pink accent will bring out your golden complexion. At least let me see that one," Dorian pleaded soothingly.

She pulled the fabric from the box gently, and was amazed at how light it was. There were dozens of yards of wispy chiffon used to make up the outfit, and every edge was trimmed in sparkling, intricate lacework. When she finally dropped her dressing gown and tried it on over her small clothes, she still needed Dorian's help to navigate the outfit. There were countless more yards of sashes and additional bits of lace provided that must be for matching other clothing to the dress. In the end, they finished tying it up and closing it to Dorian's approval, and she stood before her full length mirror and marvelled at it.

The chiffon draped over her shoulders, wound in diagonal puffs down her upper arms and expanded in pointed strips at her elbows. The waist was cinched together by a starburst design almost reminiscent of the Inquisition's symbol, but in the same sparkling snowy thread as the trim. the skirt pooled out around her, slightly higher in the front so it rose and curled outwards in front of her ankles, and fell like a violet waterfall behind her, bunched up in diagonal gathers that spiraled around her hips.

For a moment, she stared at it, and it seemed very similar to the Circle's robes, if they had been exploded and reformed from air and shadows. The idea was absurd enough that she found herself laughing out loud at her reflection, doubling over as Dorian watched her warily.

"Get this off me. This is atrocious!" Habrynn finally coughed between laughter. He smirked back, "I suppose it is. Good color, but they should know better than to cover the Inquisitor in lace and ruffles.

"Third time's a charm?" Dorian coaxed.

She slipped the third lid off, and inside the box, was a longer note on fine translucent parchment. "One last gift," it read, "In exchange for Val Royeaux finally having our dear Inquisitor's measurements." With a loud crackle, she combusted the note.

"I may have to kill him," she grumbled. By now, Dorian usually had a witty retort, but he was staring into the box with scrutiny sparkling in his eyes.

"This one," Dorian stated, "I think this is what you want."

Finally Habrynn glanced down as well, and pulled the textured tissue packaging away, and beamed down at it's contents. A tiny, fluttering mote of light sparked in her chest, warming her heart like she hadn't felt in more than a month.

Half an hour later, Habrynn sprinted down the stairs from the upper wing, vaulted the last few steps and nearly ran into Josephine as she began to corner the door in a dash for the front landing.

"I, Inquisitor! You are looking well!" Josephine stammered out, wobbling to stabilize the writing supplies that Habrynn had nearly dashed on the floor. Habrynn clamped her hands around Josephine's puff-sleeved arms, and grinned, "Josephine! You must contact this designer straight away. We need more of this brocade. I want it on _everything_. My seats, my uniforms, hell, my bedsheets!"

Josephine looked her up and down uncertainly, and finally replied with a doting consolation, "Why, yes. Certainly, we can… I see you're in a better mood? Shouldn't you… be resting?" Josephine was doing a terrible job of covering her darting glances as they spoke. Sure enough, Dorian stumbled down the stairs after her, falling against the wall at the end of the stairway with a huff. "Yes, yes, the Inquisitor's babysitter is here, hey!" He shouted as Habrynn darted off through the entry doors without waiting for him.

The full spread of her coat-tails unfurled behind Habrynn as she ran. The leggings were bliss. Just two seams on the outside, and a few small darts for shaping. They were close enough to keep air off her skin, and made of such a forgiving material like scaled doeskin that stretched and gave with each stride. The shirt was the most amazing breathable silk woven in a pattern of dark violet diamonds interconnected on a field of umber. Just a few buttons down the front, with a cheeky underlayer covering her chest and a single layer on the sleeves that let the wind ripple over her arms.

And the coat was perfect. a long, smooth elegant bell outline ending at her calves, and sleeveless, but with a shoulder over-accent just hinting like pauldrons. A high smooth collar, but nowhere near the front of her neck. Not a single button on it anywhere. Never intended to close, it would never pinch her neck, give her chin a rash or stab her in the gut as she sat down to eat, ever again!

And the entire coat was made from a woven brocade with the inquisition's holy eye and sword, gold bullion threads woven through a deep maroon with tiny jet circles stitched on here and there. A good coat to give Dorian a run for his money as a surge of energy had hit Habrynn and left her fleeing her captivity, racing towards the Herald's Rest. She dashed inside, and put her back against the door. A moment later it jolted against her weight as she heard Dorian cursing in Tevine on the other side.

As the whole of the Tavern blinked back at her with incredulity, she put a finger to her lips and just smiled. One more thud against the Tavern door, and Habryn whipped it open, shoved Dorian backwards, and with a giggle, ran up the Tavern stairs with every ounce of speed she had.

Dorian stumbled back to his feet a few paces behind her, shouting, "Someone catch that madwoman!" to the uproarious laughter of the entire bar. She was ascending the steps two at a time, ducking past Sutherland's usual greeting and grabbing the banister to swing up to the second set of stairs. Sera peeked out of her room to boggle at her and shout bewildered, "Oi? Tadwinks?"

"Not now, ma petit!" Habrynn giggled back, and skidded to a halt near Cole, glancing around for the seldom-used roof access she'd seen before. Cole smiled at her with conspiratorial warmth from beneath his hat brim and pointed.

Even further behind Habrynn's trail now, Dorian breathlessly jogged up to Cole, demanding answers. Cole just smiled back, but the small door seemed to be no where to be found as Dorian scoured for the Inquisitor's exit route.

Dorian spun and shouted, "Where did Habrynn GO?!"

Sera poked her head out, "Dunno. But she called me a mop or something. What's with that?"


	24. Free For The Night

**SPOILERS! **This section of the story takes place after "Here Lies the Abyss" and Before "What Pride Hath Wrought". I've been writing this story under the assumption that you have played the game before. At this point this story diverges heavily from the main plot. A lot of what goes down is extrapolating from a variety of tidbits through all three games that explain the nature of demons, mages, magic, and possession. I took a bit of my own spin in this story, and I'm sure there's some rules I don't know about or just plain get wrong, so please forgive and keep reading.

**Please review!** This is my first time ever posting to this site. I've written and drawn other stories, but this sort of blindsided me from nowhere. I'm just hoping others enjoy the story as I try to spin it out of my head.

**LASTLY! I do not own Dragon Age or the characters, nor do I receive compensation for this work.**

* * *

There was a fellowship between herself and Cole now. Though their identities were radically different, at their core they felt a similar burden. Though her mortal soul still held the reigns, there were spirits at her core, much as Compassion now gazed out through the young man's visage. She wasn't surprised at his help. It was just what good neighbors did.

Habrynn panted and jogged more slowly the rest of the way to The Iron Bull's isolated tower. She leaned against the door for a few counts to catch her breath, giggling for a moment as she imagined the look on his face as she came to see him wearing his gift. A small spark of pride kept her from dashing in right away; nothing ruined a sultry entrance like gulping for breath between every few words. No matter how many adventures they faced, she'd never have the kind of stamina that Bull or Cassandra displayed. Even little Sera seemed like an endless supply of energy, always dashing about silently. It seemed to be that energy that drew Habrynn in.

Finally, after her heart came down to a trot from it's chest-thumping gallop, she pushed the door open, strutting in with a gleeful smile. Her mood faded quickly as she found the room empty, even more disheveled and destroyed than she remembered.

"Are those some of my pillows?" Habrynn muttered to the empty air. The bed was more shattered than before, now just a slashed up mattress with the headboard and footboard broken against the stone walls. The windows were no longer cracked, now they were hollow gaps in the stonework with only bits of glass to hint at their former occupants. As she paced along the walls, little clues whispered to her. A burst of dried blood trailed diagonal across the wall from a window ledge, ending in a poorly cleaned smear on the ground.

For the first time since the Tear had taken her, she felt one of her foundational spirits murmur in her heart, and for a brief moment, she saw a glimpse of Bull, smashing the bed, everything in sight, and then punching through the window. Glass tore at his wrist, and he bellowed aloud, his blood leaving a line to document his agony as he sunk to the floor.

She collapsed on the floor where he had, spreading her fingers out over the wood plank. Her body slowly curled, staring down at the old red stains as the past flickered across her eyes.

"Bull," She sighed, seeing him destroying all the meaningless furnishings in his room, and then watching as he pounded one shot of alcohol after another. Not his precious Meraas Lok, or even a good local brew. Just some kind of moonshine, or rot gut. The strongest thing he could find.

Her own stomach flip-flopped in empathy. "Bull, you blighted idiot," Habrynn grumbled, as her head began to ache with a sympathetic hangover. As she panted to keep the nausea in check, the door creaked open, and The Iron Bull loomed in the doorway in the here and now.

"Bull," Habrynn croaked out, reaching out to him. He strode forward with a furious glare on his face, and pulled her up from the floor with a grunt.

"What are you doing here?" He growled.

"I wanted to see you," Habrynn groaned. "I… didn't expect this," A grimace of pain flashed across her face, and her knees went weak. "I feel sick."

"We'll get you back to your room," He began.

"NO!" She shouted. He paused, but still looked like he intended to drag her along. "I refuse to go back! That's an _order_!"

A smile twitched at the edge of his face, and his angry grip on her arms loosened. His sword hand slid down to her waist slowly, brushing over the brocade appreciatively. "Where did you get that?"

She smiled back at him playfully. "Does _Marquis de Palloinne_ ring a bell?"

The Iron Bull grinned from ear to ear, and she punched him hard in the arm. "You ass," She hissed. "Now all of Val Royaeux has my measurements! And thinks I'm a degenerate..."

"Well, I didn't order _this_. But you look good, Boss-" She punched him in the arm again, and he chuckled, "Habrynn." His middle finger slipped into a blackened steel loop around her neck that peeked out from between the open top buttons of her blouse. The ring had tiny spikes emblematic of the inquisition, looking innocent enough amidst her new ensemble.

He tugged her closer towards him by the loop, and she couldn't help but follow. The outfit _was _made for her, from hardened leather strips almost as strong as Qunari flesh. "But I do recall _this_."

She glanced up at him through fluttering eyelashes as he pulled her up to her tip-toes by the choker. It took some concentration to breathe as she strained her neck up to look him in the eyes. With an effort, she raised her free arm up to wrap her fingers around his controlling wrist, and sighed, "Please don't make me go back. Give me an afternoon, at least."

With somber eyes he gazed down at her, looking over every inch of her as he held her in place with just his one finger. Around her side, his fingers tightened and flexed and his breath quickened. Finally, he tugged her face next to his as he brushed her ear with his lips, "No Inquisition here. No war. Nothing outside this room."

A small whimper escaped as she bit her lip, "Bull?"

"Hmm?" He rumbled back.

"Be gentle on the new clothes…" She cooed.

"Only on the clothes?" Bull replied with a chuckle. She smiled at the wall past him, rolling her lips into her teeth as a flush of embarrassment burned in her belly. No matter how he mapped her body over and over again, it didn't get easier to stand under his gaze.

"Then take them off for me, slowly," He purred, releasing his hold. With a flick of her wrists she brushed the coat from her shoulders, and let it catch on her elbows. With a grateful sigh The Iron Bull lowered himself down to the edge of the broken bed, and began to remove his arm brace. She looked over the fresh bruises across his chest as she let the coat fall to the ground, focusing on the story his skin told her as she began to open her blouse one brass button at a time. He must have been sparring with Krem; that was why he wasn't in the tavern, his room, or hers when she went to look for him.

With a roll of her eyes, she pulled the blouse up over her head, and tossed it backwards, only catching the tip of her horns the tiniest bit. "Okay… maybe they could have made the blouse to open the whole way," She chuckled.

"Your know, "Bull rumbled, "There is a phrase about awkwardness in Qunlat, something like, 'Running around with clothing on your horns'."

"Is there?" She snickered back. "I believe it." And put her thumbs down through the laces at either sides of her hips, and gradually coaxing the waistband down, staring into Bull's expanding smile of appreciation, as the bulge of his pants grew tighter as she watched.

For a moment, she stood in the chilly air, feeling her nipples harden under his gaze and the frozen air, with her pants around her ankles and an awkward silence between them.

"Bull?" She whispered, and he shook his head from his revery, breaking his silence with a long whistle.

"Markem has outdone himself this time," Bull stated appreciatively.

Habrynn felt flushed before, but now a pronounced blush began to trickle up from her chest into her neck. "You've… had one of these made before? For… other women?"

"Women? No… for myself," He guffawed under his breath.

"Your armorer?" She stammered, and then covered her face and looked away, suddenly consciously aware again of how little the straps and twilight lacework covered. "You told your armorer to make this? And he told all of Val Royeaux!"

Befpre Habrynn could desccend into a spiral of high-pitched worries and terrified theories, she was suffocated by Bull's lips as he grasped one of the rings placed below her breasts and tugged towards him hard. She stumbled to her knees, and he grasped the ring at her neck again, his tone no longer playful as he commanded, "Spread your legs, and stay on your knees."

She hiccupped aside the beginning of a sob, and nodded, lifting her right leg slightly to adjust the balance of her hips. He knelt on the bed, holding her collar facing to his side, as she knelt ninety degrees to him.

"W-what are you- ah!" She yelped as he brought the flat of his hand down squarely on her ass. The sound of the impact echoed through the room. "DO you remember?" He asked, and smacked her bottom again, the sting more intense after the first strike. "What your safe word is?"

She nodded quickly. "Good," He replied, and slapped again. At first it was consistent. A count of three, and a strike, then another count of three, and another strike. At first she concentrated on the pace, like it might help dull the sting, but soon she was lost in the glowing sting and the hard pressure digging into her kneecaps. After maybe ten or fifteen strikes, he paused, and she realized she had been holding her breath in between coping squeaks.

"Breathe," He commanded.

"What about my boots?" She asked. He answered with another slap, this time a little lower, to the sensitive fold between her butt and the top of her thighs. The sting brought a strangled yelp to her lips intense, but the heat of the strike lingered pleasantly.

"I like them. Keep them on," He crooned, and leaned in closer, taking hold of her ear in his teeth, and moving his gripping hand from the dangling ring at her throat, down to the straps that bordered the sides of her breasts. He began to slap first her right buttcheek, then her left, no longer keeping to a rhythmic timing, now more random in his attacks.

"How did you even get this on?" Bull growled, and then struck. She sobbed lustily, and he cupped his hand around her breast, pinching the nipple hard and then soft in little pulses. "You shouldn't have even gotten ahold of this. I was hoping to put it on you myself."

"Blame Dorian," Habrynn gasped, and almost laughed, but a quick double strike left her speechless. "He… huff… he brought the packages to me."

"The Tevinter Fop?" Bull laughed, and reached down between her cheeks, eliciting a whimpering sigh from her. "Funny. He's the one who told me you were up here… seems I have a lot to thank him for."

She leaned into his hold on her chest as he traced two fingers over the crevice of her slit, soaking her underwear with her own slickness, more aroused than she had even realized was there until he touched her. A gasping shudder ran through her as he stroked even just outside of her sensitive regions, crushing the thin small underwear that she had put on over the straps into her sex as he kneaded teasingly, keeping the thin cloth barrier between his touch and her pleasure.

"I really do have you pegged," He whispered into her ear, and pulled her around by the waist and flopped her on her back onto the mattress beside him. As she wriggled to pull herself further onto the padding he stopped her. "No," He said, and she stopped with her legs dangling awkwardly off the edge, one boot heel notched into what remained of a bedrail.

He rolled to face her, and held himself up by a hand between her ribs and arm, and reached down to push her legs apart. He gingerly lifted her right leg over his hip, and before she could stare at him in confusion for long, he slapped down on her mound, eliciting a short screech that seemed to surprise even him the way his eye crinkled up and he rumbled a slow, "Yes."

"Let it out, Kadan," He crooned. He wasn't striking nearly as hard, but he struck down just over her clit, slapping her mound, compounding excitement that was already painful as it was. He lowered his arm down, laying on the bed beside her as her legs were spread open to him. He clenched a fist around her horn and he looked into her eyes as he smacked her again and again, and as her screeches became cries behind tightly closed teeth and hisses, he leaned in to kiss her deeply, feeling her shouts reverberate through him, before he yanked her panties away and struck four more times, hard, and felt her shudder beneath him.

The kiss broke, and he struck again and again, now throwing in smacks to the backside of her thighs, or quick brutal pinches on her nipples, or taking them into his teeth. She cried out, wobbling between groans, tears and keening. His stern lusty expression stayed fixed on her own, until he was grunting with effort and she looked like she'd loose herself in pain and torment-

"KATOH!" She cried out.

Bull stopped with his hand hovering over her, panting with exertion, realizing that he was sweating as much as she was. She shivered against him, clammy with sweat. He began to sit up, and she yanked him back against her by his waistband and glared at him with a furious need he hadn't seen in weeks.

"FUCK. ME." She hissed.

"Can do," He whispered back.

He leaned in to press against her, and she responded with a yank that sent him sprawling past her, pinned between her legs before he could realize what had taken place. Her hands frantically tore at his pants, twitching the hooks of his buckle, hooking into the laces and prying the waistband hungrily. As she worked her hips rocked against his, scorching heat pulsing between them as her abused cleft slid over his trapped erection; no amount of fabric could have concealed her want.

There was no time wasted between them, not even to finish undressing. As soon as his cock was free of his breeches she twisted her smallclothes aside and took the whole length inside her in one go. Neither one lasted long, as she rutted her hips against his, squeezing around him as she rutted and ground the release she needed until her voice was a drawn out wail, before being swallowed up by his kiss, every inch pressed into each other as tight as they could while the world went blank.

*,*,*

Bull had helped her get the blouse over her horns. It really was fine fabric. Habrynn went on about how light and comfortable it was, but Bull could see the Fadesilk in the cross-threads. The shirt by itself might stop and arrow in a pinch. He wanted nothing less than the best to protect the woman he loved.

He leaned back on the disheveled mattress and smiled at her backside as she pulled her pants over her nakedness, and tapped her boots against the ground to push her feet the rest of the way in. With a wobble she gave up on standing for the moment and let out a long, relieved sigh as she fell back next to him again.

"Well," Bull whispered, "If I knew it would take that long to get that safe word from you, I would have let you pick your own."

Habrynn glanced back at him with an exhausted smirk just as the doorframe began to creak. Sunlight burst into Bulls room as Cullen tossed the door open without a thought.

"Sorry to disturb your rest, Inquisitor, but our fortif-" Cullen jolted, stared straight forward, and as Habrynn froze in place where she sat, he must have gotten more than an eyefull of Bull's endowments, because he immediately slammed his writing board up to his face, "Oh, sweet Maker!" He grimaced.

"Cullen. How's it goin'?" Bull slung back without an ounce of concern. Habrynn, on the other hand, felt like the blood was draining from her body, and she was turning to ice.

"Is the Inquisitor awake?" Josephine's sweet voice echoed from outside. "I thought perhaps we c- oh!" As she walked past Cullen's petrified form, she jolted even harder than the commander had, and stared directly at Bull's package like one under a spell, continuing to stammer.

"This is.. um.. I mean," Habrynn grasped for words, standing up straight as a board, now petrified herself.

"I am.. so… sorry," Cullen replied, still shielding his eyes.

"I cannot move my legs," Josephine continued to gawk.

Habrynn's heart stopped as Cassandra began to idly walk in, "Is something the matter-ah!" She yelped, like she'd stepped into a room full of rats.

Bull captured Habrynn's thoughts perfectly when he rolled his head away and groaned, "Oh, for fuck's sake!"

Cassandra swung to the statue-Cullen, "Do you see this?"

And Cullen replied with a stoney, "NO."

"So, I take it-" Cassandra sputtered.

"Actually," Bull pointed to Habrynn nonchalantly, "She's the one who's been taking it."

"I apologize for interrupting what I assume was a… momentary diversion?" Cassandra chastised. Habrynn's face flushed, and though she couldn't see it, she could feel a pang of annoyance from Bull. Blood that was ice raged to lava in a second.

Cullen surprised her when his embarrassment softened to a teasing tone, "Nothing wrong with having a bit of fun."

"Who wouldn't be a little curious?" Josephine added, earning a scowl from Cassandra.

With her fists shaking with anger, Habrynn stuttered, "L-look. This. This was more than just a … a momentary diversion." She breathed in deeply for courage, and shot Cassandra back a scowl of her own. "And Bull and I intend to continue. Is that a problem?"

"No," They all three replied defensively.

"A surprise, I'll admit," Cassandra smirked, "But not a problem."

"Then get out!" Habrynn screamed in her own thoughts. Silently, she watched them each turn to leave.

Cullen's cheeky but reassuring smile surprised her the most as he said, "We'll leave you be."

"I'd appreciate that. Think on your own sins before you come by to interrupt mine," Habrynn growled, revelling in the shocked expressions it won her. They each slunk away, Cassandra shooting her decidedly concerned scowl before marching off.

Josephine's apologetic exit made her regret her anger, until she had to step forward to close the door they did not even bother to shut behind them. She slid to the ground against it protectively, and burst into fearful tears before she could even process what had just happened.

"There. Let it out," Bull soothed, reaching down to give her a hand up. She gratefully took it, and he half led, half carried her back to the bed. Her legs were shaking more than even before, but at least the nervous tears were already drying up. From between the edge of the bed and the wall Bull fished something out from his things, and held out a pouch made of crimson velvet.

She recognized it immediately, and blinked back at him, "I… you… I meant to-"

"A dragon's tooth, split in half." Bull began.

"So no matter how far apart life takes us," she sniffed inelegantly, "We're always together. But, where did you find it? I thought for sure it was lost with my gear."

The Iron Bull studied her face as he pulled the bag from around the tooth. "I've actually had it since the Jennies found your horse." He knew he could say more. Should say more, but even remembering those bleak days twisted his insides more than he expected. With his eyes closed, he inhaled slowly, and continued, "Not often do people surprise me, Kadan."

He placed the tooth back into her hands, and watched as she her gaze fell on the inscription he had carved in the previously blank tooth.

"Kadan?" Habrynn read, and then glanced up at him adoringly, "You've called me that before."

"Kadan. My heart." Bull explained, brushing the side of her face, pulling her back to the warmth of the covers with his gaze.

"Kadan," She agreed, and let him pull her into his embrace. She kicked off her boots. She could get dressed and be the inquisitor later.

For now, she just wanted to be his.

* * *

**Author's Note: **This is the last seriously sexy segment between these two, and there are just three more chapters planned before the conclusion of this novel. Please hang in here to read the remainder, and thanks to everyone who has stuck with me so far!


	25. Judgement

Though the War Council had been chastised by her response to their invasion of her privacy, it wasn't even a full day before they were assaulting her in force, throwing evil eyes when she came around corners, and ambushing her with paperwork and duties at every chance. It quickly became clear in their pleas that one duty in particular could not be put off after the whole of Skyhold had watched her race with Dorian.

She had to sit in the damned chair, and pretend she had the moral authority to judge all of Thedas, and declare fitting penance for their sins. Most of the cases were straightforward, but inevitably she received anger and praise in equal measure no matter what decision she came to. To make it worse, the size of the crowd today was like nails on a chalkboard inside her mind. Fishes eager to be fed leaping over each other, pushing and squirming to gulp at bits of her attention.

As the Mayor of Crestwood was lead to the center of the room, the majority of the room's emotions were deep red and brown. Echoes of disbelief, distain, anger, revulsion. The man was pitiful against the drawings in their minds of a demonic child-eating villain. A month in the Skyhold dungeon had left his face sunken, and all of him covered in a thin grime, while a long scraggly beard obscured his ropey malnourished neck. He had been hesitant to speak when they sought aid to enter the rift cavern, but now he was mute with shame.

Josephine explained his crimes, and with a wince, decried the way he had sacrifice human beings; his own neighbors. Habrynn stared at his bowed head for a moment, collecting her thoughts before she announced, "I want to state that I agree with what you did."

He shot to attention with a scowl towards her that she didn't expect. She continued, "But it doesn't make it right, nor legal. You were not a King, nor a Duke or Teyrn. You were not the sole divine authority for those people. You were their Mayor- given authority to govern. Not to decide their fates."

He scowled to the side, looking chastised against his earlier anger as she continued, "But I understand what you did. It was was logical. You saved the sick from a slower death, and saved the living from the darkspawn that may have spawned from their own kin. You acted as a Grey Warden might."

That earned her a sharp look from Blackwall, who she could see watching the events from the outskirts of the room. Finally, after the outcry within the crowd quieted, she concluded, "But you did not _have _that authority. Now I give it to you. I sentence you to join the Wardens. To die now from the joining, or in continued service to all of Thedas."

She could feel and hear the room puzzling over her sentence. The wave around her was tinted with bitterness. No one really liked to hear the clear unbiased truth. She found that out every time she sat here. It was part of why she hated it. People loved to look into someone's eyes and yell murderer with the same breath that they praised her 'Herald'. But in the end, it was just a matter of who caught you, and who you happened to kill. The Mayor's expression softened, surprising everyone as he bowed, "It is more than I deserve. I thank you."

She held onto the gratitude she felt radiating from him as they lead him away, carrying it in her soul as a balm against the rest of the crowd. One person at least, was happy with her decision. There was hardly time to prepare herself before they brought Lord Rosmont Évreaux before her. The moment their eyes met, the Noble began to spit curses at her in Orlesian, straining against his bonds as if he might rush up to attack her given the chance.

"You maimed my child! My SON!" Lord Rosmont spat in Orlesian, "Blighted daughter of a nug! Cow Whore!"

It took a huge force of will to separate the tangle of his own hatred from hers. Josephine tried to read off the man's crimes, but was having trouble being heard over his ravings. He continued in colorfully crude descriptions of how she was bred and how she ought to die, until Habrynn pulled herself together to order, "Someone restrain him! We cannot hold court if we cannot read the charges!"

The Lord was lead forward again in chains and a muzzle. It had taken a surprisingly amount of bondage to subdue the grey-haired old man. Josephine cleared her throat and began, "The Lord Rosmont Évreaux is accused of a plot to kill seven Qunari mercenaries, of plotting to injure further Inquisition troops, and a plot upon the Inquisitor's life itself." Josephine blinked and glanced to Habrynn with an uncertain blink. "Perhaps the Inquisitor is a little too close to this to judgement-"

Habrynn stood up, "No. The crime is simple. He conspired and killed seven of my friends in cold blood. It does not matter if they were my kin, elven or Dwarven. Were they humans that were hunted down, bound, tortured and murdered, no one in this room would argue the sentence! These murders are worse even than the mayor of Crestwood. They were premeditated, they were heartless," she growled.

She had stepped towards him before she had realized what she was doing. "And they were unjustified. The sentence is-"

"Wait!" A younger Noble called out from the crowd, pushing through the throng with a sealed document roll in hand. He breathed heavily behind his mask as he scuffled with the guards that held him back, snarling, "I have official documentation that I am my father's legal council!"

"Julian?" Habrynn asked, stopped in her tracks by the voice from her past.

The guards paused, gripping his arms tightly. With a yank he freed himself, and tugged his doublet back into place with a practiced elegance of movement. "Yes, I am Julian Seggart Évreaux, and I demand a chance to petition the Inquisitor."

She balked at his formal tone, sputtering inelegantly for lack of a proper response.

Rosmont growled at the scene, "She does not deserve to live after what she did to you! My little boy!"

Julian stepped forward, and the guards stepped in, but all he did was touch her arm, light as a feather. "Perhaps we could speak privately?" He hissed under his breath.

Cullen finally snapped from his position on the Dias, "Really, Inquisitor, this is highly unorthodox-!"

Julian dropped to one knee, brushing his hands down to clasp hers. "I beseech you, Inquisitor,"

Habrynn frowned at his formality, but motioned for him to follow her. "Come, we can speak on the inner balcony."

The doorway that was usually reserved for herself and a small number of servants was now the gateway to an unexpectedly formal reunion. As soon as the door shut behind them, she saw his entire posture soften. His shoulders slumped, and his face bent down to his hand, where he held his head for a long time before finally speaking. He gripped the mask by the edges, and slid it up through his long golden hair to finally reveal his face as he implored Habrynn.

"Please release my father into my care," He whispered. When she finally saw his face, she was amazed at how his features had changed, yet retained the same compassion she remembered from him. His eyes were still deep blue and full of concern, though they seemed heavy with responsibility now. The fires she had seen envelop him had done their work, marring his hairline into a ragged shape around his face, and leaving uneven pink lines in his skin that had still not fully recovered a decade later.

But the eyes remained, and they held her silently in a gaze that spoke of idle summers with their toes in a stream, and afternoons arguing over math problems and chasing each other with caterpillars on sticks. There were many layers of pain between them, but she was amazed that she did not feel anger there, only a long festering regret.

"Julian," Habrynn finally sighed, "I'm sorry… but he's a murderer."

"You don't understand. This is very recent. My father was angry about what you did, you can believe that, but really? He was a fool to drive your father off instead of seeking you out. And what does a Noble need a pretty face for in Orlais?" He snorted, scratching an uneven patch of stubble at his chin, where the hair grew in patches now.

"No," He continued. "No, this madness began just a year ago. He calls me child, forgets my brothers' names, calls for servants long dead. He is out of his mind."

"He arranged for the death of seven of my comrades, Julian!" Habrynn snarled back. "I don't care if he's lyrium addled, blighted, or completely drunk! How can you ask me to forgive that? Even if I sent him to the Wardens, he's.. what… sixty, now? It's worse than a death sentence!"

"Then release him to my custody!" He pleaded, grasping her hand in his, and bringing it up to his lips. "I am not asking for special treatment, not really. I can pledge my house's support to the Inquisition!"

She couldn't argue with that. She had given other Nobles a blank slate for turning over their households and resources to the Inquisition's cause. But the idea left a bitter taste in her mouth. If Shokrakar was here, he might have already gutted both Évreauxs, father and son, and flung their bodies from the cliffs for even thinking they could buy off the deaths of his men.

But the way Rosmont had cursed her publicly _was _strange. She had judged the nobility countless times. Maker knows there was no shortage of privileged fools willing to sell their servants souls for a little more power, Breach be damned. But when faced with the hangman's noose, none had been so belligerent, so blind to her position. Even Erimond was not so bold, despite flagrantly denying her authority.

He kissed her hand gently, and placed it to his cheek as he ground his teeth. "If you ever loved me, Haba … please… let my father live."

She watched him silently, indulging in what small connection she could garner from that touch, but it was slipping with each passing moment. Whatever they had had was a lifetime ago, and she would never again be the little Vertrande.

She removed her hand and stepped back towards the Main hall, "I cannot pardon his crimes completely, but, If your house were to pledge fealty to the inquisition-"

"Done," Julian replied before she could finish.

She continued, "And I will need proof."

"Proof?"

"Of his insanity," She finished curtly. "I can already think of a way to show the court-"

"No! Please!" he begged, "If his sanity is questioned publicly-"

She crossed her arms tight, crushing her sleeves in tense hands as she stubbornly stared into the door. "The public must see why I chose this verdict, or I will look compromised, and others will act against my decision. Your father is not getting younger… this was bound to happen eventually. This trial is far from the Orelesian courts, at least..."

Julian finally chuckled, sad and broken, "I knew you were wise… all those years ago. You ran circles around me, you know… but now…"

He strode forward, turned her by the shoulder and leaned up on tip-toes to plant a kiss at either side of her lips, leaving her stone-stiff and blushing red as he backed away to replace his mask.

"And still lovely," He nodded behind the repaired visage. "I still hope to find a woman of good breeding with a heart like yours."

Habrynn just stared at him, willing her blood to stop filling her face so awkwardly. "Go, Julian. I have to call my advisors."

He walked back into the Main hall, and stepped out of her life again.

The rest of the trial was a blur. It did not take more than a few leading comments to show everyone that the old Lord Évreaux was not in his right mind, or even in the right year within his mind. Though many of the inner circle cast doubtful glances between them, she sentenced the Lord to jailed confinement within his estate, under the agreement that the estate would house a permanent barracks for Inquisition soldiers in Orlais, allowing them to make sure the sentence was carried out, and repay the damage caused by his insanity.

There were no more trials that day. Others were scheduled, but she ordered all unnecessary personnel from the hall, languishing in the silence of that giant space until she felt ready to explain the full truth of her departure from Évreaux's estate to the War Council. When she finally called them to the War Room, she sent for The Iron Bull as well.

She told them the details as directly as she could. She thought after the fade had dredged them up not once but twice, and she had dealt with the fallout amongst the Valo-Kas and the Tear, that she could be more impartial about a long-lost childhood and events that took place twelve years before.

But she found herself choked, again and again brushing hot tears from her eyes, giving more of a confession than an account of pertinent events. It took hours, and the few questions they had for her dragged the testimony out until the room was nearly dark, lit just by the last trickle of gold from a dead sunset.

She was surprised, as Empathy had swam around her with a kaleidoscope of emotions during the entire retelling, that she did not feel disdain from them. Nor anger or rejection or even shock. What she felt, overwhelmingly, was regret. She could feel a mirrored flow of emotion from them, echoes of similar and even darker skeletons in their closets.

They each eventually adjourned. Morrigan had been the most quiet. Save for a soft snort of, "Mothers do that to us, yes?" She had nothing to add. Cullen seemed flustered through most of the tale, at first giving a few cursory consolations, but eventually listening in silence. As he left, he set a hand to her shoulder, and a fixed her with a long gaze that said, "I know this pain. It will ease." Josephine had rubbed her fingers across her forearm, and chuckled awkwardly. She seemed about the say something else, but simply smiled, and said, "Take care," before she left for her own quarters.

Lellianna was the last to go, save for Bull. She did not offer Habrynn a hug or reassuring touch, just a small nod, and a caution, "Love can get us into the worst trouble, cause us the worst pain." She nodded to Bull before she began to march out of the room. As she was about to close the door behind her, she turned back, "But, I must confess… I still hope one day to find such a love for myself, despite the cost." With that, she exited, shutting them in.

Bull and Habrynn were left to themselves in the War Room. He silently pulled her back to him, wrapping a strong arm around her waist, and the other around her shoulder, tipping her head against his chest to squeeze her more and more tightly.

"Kadan," He whispered into her ear. _My Heart._

"e Amon," She replied back, exhausted. _My Love._


	26. Poison and Cure

Cassandra wasn't even aware that Habrynn was watching her. The Seeker was tense, anyone could see it in the way she balled her fists and stomped into each step in the spiraling ascent to the Inquisition Library.

Habrynn wasn't sure anything even needed to be said about the matter. Cassandra had been nothing short of courageous in every encounter, and had made her views of fair treatment from the Chantry know to anyone who would listen. But as the Seeker shot an almost unnoticeable glance in Habrynn's direction, anger finally made her slam the cover of the tome she was studying.

"One part copal, a pinch of aether catalyst, five parts soup bone, pre-boiled for an hour." Habrynn recited to the ceiling.

Cassandra paused, and doubled back across the alcove Habrynn was wedged into. With a wrinkle across her nose, Cassandra asked, "What?"

Habrynn continued, staring fixedly at her friend the Seeker, "Boil again together, pulverize, boil again for another two hours. Pulverize again. Boil two hours further, then strain, and boil the final broth until proper thickness. Seal in wax to save for up to two weeks."

With an agitated tap of her foot, Cassandra crossed her arms and snapped, "What are you reciting?"

Habrynn scowled back at her, "A recipe for glue. Very fine glue, actually. For repairing delicate documents. The pinch of catalyst reacts with the copal to keep away yellowing."

Cassandra sputtered back, "What? I didn't-"

"Come with me," Habrynn sighed, and lead her along the causeways crossing from the second floor to the outer walls. The seeker and the inquisitor both walked stiffly, both unsure of the nature of the interuption until Habrynn finally coughed out, "You tried to destroy the account of the Seeker."

Cassandra scowled and stammered, gripping and ungripping her hands in a dance of posturing that Habrynn couldn't help but chuckle at. Her laughter made the Seeker pause, and respond back in a hushed whisper, suddenly aware of the wide open space around them, the air that felt like it was listening intently to the secretive debriefing.

"How did you know?"

"Vigilance showed me," Habrynn replied quickly, "Each spirit gave me a vision."

Casandra scoffed, turned away, and leaned her weight onto the railing of the causeway, glaring into Skyhold's meeting grounds as she clipped, "The word of spirits cannot be trusted."

Habrynn smirked, "Would that we needed neither the poison nor the cure."

Her defiant glare softened to defeat. "Fine. I did it. It was foolish."

"I'm glad you didn't follow through," Habrynn tried to comfort, earning her a snort of derision in response before she continued, "You wanted to destroy all of it, not just the cure. It says a lot-"

"It says nothing, "Casandra snapped. "Except that I was weak."

Habrynn passed her to brace her elbows into the railing and stare parrellel to her friend into the bustling daily activity around them. "I've only recently realized how little I knew about the Chantry and the Mages. The Circles, the internal conflicts… any of it, really. The Valo-Kas stayed the hell away from all the Quanari bullshit happening in Kirkwall. Shokrakar kept all of us alive when the world was going mad. Shouts of "Kill anything with horns!" were coming from every corner of Thedas, so we made a point of keeping to the west of that dangerous border. I don't really have a clear idea about the mage rebellion. Never thought it had anything to do with me. But I've been reading through the chantry histories, and many of the journals that we have recovered from the rebel mages. Think of the mages wrongly made tranquil for minor offenses, or worse, those who were beaten, raped, or tortured, and then made tranquil to silence them-"

"I already know," Cassandra spat. "You think I'm not aware? And what of the ones who did deserve it, or asked for it. You don't understand the pain and suffering undoing that binding would cause!"

Habrynn fixed Cassandra with a patient sidelong glance, "Neither do you… would you make _me_ tranquil, if you could?"

They both studied each other for a long time before she responded, "I don't know. If you had asked me a month ago, I would have said yes without hesitation. But I helped Solas without a second thought… I let a spirit use me… now? … I don't know," she finished with an exhaled breath, looking lost and tired and ready to put down her sword forever.

Habrynn smiled, trying to console her friend with a shove to her shoulder, "Well, I'm glad you didn't think to. No Fade, no Anchor, and then Corypheus wins. I suppose I'm both… the poison and the cure."

Casandra snorted.

With a flick of her left hand, the Anchor stirred to life, a spiral of green pulsating to the palm of her hand. "I don't think you understand. I need your strength, Casandra. After the explosion at the Conclave, I thought I was a goner. Between the Mark eating me alive and the Chantry ready to execute me, I thought that it was a choice between a dishonorable death and an honorable one. When it turned out you were all as disoriented untethered as I was, I was harsh and sarcastic. I was surprised every time the Inquisition asked my advice. It was always so strange. I wasn't responsible. It wasn't MY Inquisition, I was just happy to run your errands and do what needed to be done far away from Cullen or Lellianna's judgement. Until I face down that archdemon… I didn't dwell on it. It flowed, and for some crazy reason, people started looking to me for answers. I just gave them commands so they'd stop staring a me. I don't know why, but the moment I accepted that damn sword… it was so heavy… it was harder. The losses were mine. The rewards never seemed enough to compensate for the failures…"

Casandra clasped her hand over Habrynn's, just a quick squeeze of her gauntlet, cold but well intentioned.

Habrynn continued, "Solas keeps telling me that posturing is necessary… that I need to stop thinking like a lone mercenary. But he hasn't told me how to stop feeling like a complete fraud."

Cassandra snorted, "Solas was right in a way. You only held that sword up for a moment. Then we all took up your sword."

Habrynn smiled back at Cassandra, and the two continued to watch the bustle of the hold as the day slipped by around them.


	27. Cookies

Habrynn was tired of being tired. She had set a stern goal for the day of no moping, no more than five frowns, and a maximum of three boringly bureaucratic meetings to attend. The meetings she was currently putting off with maximum effort, as she casually hid in the folds of a long curtain next to Varric as a befuddled messenger passed by without turning around.

"Did you get it?" Habrynn hissed a whisper to Varric after the young woman was out of earshot.

With a chuckle, he tossed a dense little bag to her. The brick thumped into her arms, eliciting an oof that made the messenger spin around, narrowly missing her as the curtain fluttered in front of Habrynn as she lost her balance for a moment.

The dwarf chuckled grimly, "I know I owed you a big favor, but getting this stuff was harder than I expected! We're even now. I'm not going to get you any more!"

Habrynn chanced a conspiratorial smirk from behind the long draping velvet.

He rolled his eyes, crossed his arms, and eventually a grin ticked up at the corner of his cheek, "Okay. Fine. What I mean is, next time I smuggle for you, I'm taking a cut."

*,*,*

"U-gh," Sera's drawn out groan of disapproval echoed through Skyhold's kitchen as she kicked the door closed behind her. "What. Is. That. Smell. Is that the cookies?" She grimaced and waved to encompass the whole Kitchen area. "Because I don't want any if they smell like THAT."

Habrynn chuckled, stirring the pot one more time before narrowing the wood burning stove's opening, bringing the sticky glop down to a lower boil. "No. Andraste would return from the dead and smite us both if this was cookies."

Sera chuckled, hopping down from the upper area to the lower, flinching between grimaces and little nervous smirks. "She would, eh? Oh, blood and piss it just gets worse when I'm nearer! It's like a bunch of horngrass on fire, and attacking my nose!"

Habrynn pushed her back, covered the pot, and began to crack open every window she could find. "There," She rolled her eyes. "Now, smell _this_," she peeled back multiple layers of parchment and wax, revealing a deep maroon block crinkled with indents where the paper had crushed into it on its journey.

Sera put her nose to it hesitantly, and then shrugged with confusion scrunching her face. "It's kinda… fruity, I guess?"

"You've never had Cacao?" Habrynn smiled broadly.

"_That_ came from a cow?" Sera squinted. "And it's brown, yea?"

She shook her head, chuckling and wincing at Sera's implication "Don't worry, it's not from a cow. You're in for a treat."

Making the cookies took most of the day. Not because it was a particularly hard recipe. They were basic butter cookies. Equal parts of all the ingredients: eggs, flour, butter, sugar. But Sera boggled at even the most basic instructions. She had never heard of measuring cups, she didn't know teaspoons were a size and not just a spoon you stuck in tea. Even simple directions like creaming the butter evoked a "It's already cream, yea? Or it was," response from her.

But with Habrynn doing a lot of the legwork, and Sera mainly watching and passing her parts as they went along, they eventually produced a nice smooth dough with only a few fistfuls of flour being thrown as they got the giggles.

She held her hands over Sera's, guiding a knife through the slab of dough they had rolled out, carving into even strips one after another. "Pff," Sera giggled, "I got this part down. Cookies aren't so hard, then."

For a moment, they both looked down at the strips, until a thought dawned on Habrynn, "Oh. I almost forgot the best part!" She broke off a small nubbin of dough and popped it into Sera's mouth before the elf knew what was happening. Sera chewed a moment, making a back-and forth face of delight and confusion as she chewed. Habrynn ate a piece as well, looking dreamy as the dough melted in her mouth.

"Ugh… these aren't cookies yet, right? It's all eggs and slimey… you like this?"

"Slimey's not always bad," Habrynn snickered. "Here, maybe this will be better?" She took some of the chocolate they had chopped earlier, and crushed it into a ball of dough before rolling it around, and again popped the morsel into Sera's waiting mouth.

She chewed, and made a face even quicker, though Habrynn noticed that she didn't spit it out despite her objections. "This is worse! It's like.. sweet grease and hard bits… I don't even… ughh!"

Habrynn couldn't help but smile. Watching Sera's expressions made her wish she had contacted her friend sooner. Perhaps Sera could have helped, could have made her recovery quicker, less dark and lonely.

The kiss seemed to come out of nowhere. Habrynn was laughing with her eyes tight shut, and then her lips were moist, and she could feel Sera's small hands cupping the sides of her face. She opened her eyes as Sera stepped back, grinning like a bigger fool than usual.

"So, I've been thinking," Sera grinned, "we're good friends, right? And we're always fightin' and travelin… maybe… we could have fun sometime? Right? Fighting and fun!"

Her face felt frozen, still thinking over the feel of Sera's lips on hers. Moist and smooth despite the elf's rough personality. She had coaxed against her with a pliability that was entirely different from The Iron Bull.

"I… I don't…" Habrynn groped for words. Sera was lovely, in her own way. Habrynn couldn't help but think of the kind of fun that her friend was implying. Sera's raunchy grin sealed the message, but her heart ached to think on it. Her mind went to Bull as fast as it had gone to Sera.

Sera must have noticed the ambivalence in Habrynn's dumbfounded silence, because her grin slowly sunk to a straight line, and she rolled her shoulders, "Ugh… I don't share. Should have known, after all the talk."

"I'm sorry," Habrynn recovered, sputtering, "I could-"

Sera slapped a puff of flour towards Habrynn, and scampered towards the door without even glancing back, "Whatever! I hope you two are stupid happy!"

Habrynn watched the door slam in Sera's wake, and then looked to the carving board, stuck with unfinished cookies and too many thoughts.

There went her no moping goal for the day.

*,*,*

The Patrons of the Herald's rest all tracked her with their eyes as Habrynn passed through, sniffing and grumbling to themselves. A few were so bold as to lick their lips as they watched her climb the stairs to the second floor, where she placed a small parcel at the foot of Sera's uncharacteristically shut door, smelling of butter and chocolate and fresh baked sweetness. When she leafed through her friend's guest book, she found several pages roughly removed from the tail end. Taking the hint, she left the small parcel of cookies and carted the remains of her day of cooking with her back towards the entrance.

"What's that, Kadan?" The Iron Bull crooned as she descended the stairs again, blocking her exit with a hand up to the ceiling beam. He was almost salivating in front of her eyes, but Habrynn shifted the remaining basket behind her, and held out a large jar, sealed with a tensioned lid.

He flashed back a petulant frown, but popped open the lid, to the immediate revulsion of everyone around them.

Krem threw his drink down and covered his face, "Ugh! Bull! It smells like a wyvern vomited on you!"

Habrynn rolled her eyes at the continuing melodrama around them, "Its-!"

"Horn balm?" Bull cut her off, sniffing the jar tentatively, before looking back at her in awe.

Habrynn jostled the basket at her hip to a more comfortable position, adding , "You and Varric were always going on about it. My mother taught me to make it-"

Before she could finish, he grunted and picked her up in a bear hug so hard she coughed, spinning her down to the bottom landing for a deep kiss that won them a standing ovation from the whole of the Inn.

He growled appreciatively into her neck before asking, "Are the cookies for me too, Boss?"

She glanced at the basket that had bounced down the stairs protectively. Luckily, none of the little baked treasures had escaped despite his exuberance. "No way," She giggled, "Those are mine!"

He looked back with an incorrigible smile, and assured her, "I bet I could make you give me those cookies-"

"Some," Habrynn stammered, suddenly aware of their overly rapt and growing audience, "And You'll have to earn them. Do you know how long it takes to smuggle CHOCOLATE from Rivain?"

*,*,*

Within the hour they were already naked, sweat-soaked and dusted with cookie crumbs on the floor of her room. Habrynn dredged a bottle of milk from the ice tub they'd chiselled from the undercroft. Bull reached to steal a swig, but she held it aloft and laughed back, "I told you not eat them all at once!"

He grumbled, "But they were so tiny.. and so good. And they weren't very consistent in size. I was eating the defects!"

"Defects?" Habrynn scoffed, "See if I bake cookies for you again.!"

When her face sank at the comment, he sat up and snatched the bottle away, drinking his swig before inquiring, "What now?"

Habrynn looked distant, "I… I baked them for Sera. She always wanted to bake her own cookies. And then she kissed me… I think… she propositioned me." Habrynn winced in anticipation, but Bull's reaction was confused. A brief grin that sunk to a stern frown told her everything. A lusty image of the two women exploring each other, but then the obviously jealous implications.

"I am bound to you. I assume you feel the same?" Bull finally confided.

Habrynn nodded, "It's just… I can feel how much she needs me. Needs someone close to her, that understands her. I don't think she has anyone else like that-"

"You can't solve everyone's problems." He pulled her to him, tracing the side of the bottle over her shoulder, holding it up to her nipples in a casually distracting manner as he mused quietly into her neck, "You can't give yourself to everyone, or you'll be stretched more thin than you already are."

They stayed in quite contemplation, Bull running the bottle across her skin until the cold died away, carressing her hips and lazilly pressing his fingers into her thighs as they lounged. She was content to let him explore, reaching a hand up to stroke his chest, grab a horn, or sigh in response as the afternoon light continued to warm the Loft.

The crunch of a cookie brought her out of her revery, and the trickle of crumbs over her shoulder was too much. "Your share it done!" She shrieked.

"Fine," He chuckled through a mouthful, finally picking up the precious balm jar to dig into the contents. With a large gob between his fingers, he slapped the thick pungent cream over the side of his forehead.

Habrynn growled, "NO! You're doing it all wrong. stop- let me-" She launched at him, juggling to keep the balm from being dashed on the ground as she wrestled it away from his grip, fighting to get the jar back and gain a hold on him. He was laughing at her the whole time, until he tossed her onto her back, and in his underestimation, she got her legs around his neck. He knocked the breath out of her as they fell back against the ground, but she had him.

He couldn't see that she had dragged the sloshing ice bucket nearer, and stretched to grab a box from her bedside. With a slick scrape, she began to scrub at his horns, tugging his head this way and that.

"Argh, what is this? Some kind of torture? What are you doing-"

Bull tried to wriggle free, reach to tug her legs aside, but she clamped her hips harder. "You can do this awake, or I can do this with you asleep," She threatened with sudden severity.

He snarled, "They're supposed to be coarse! It's a feature!" She clamped her legs one more time, and he snarled with a hitch in the middle as she pressed in on his jugulars, darkening his vision for a split second. With a repeated slap of his hand, Bull gave the universal sign of surrender before he sank into silence.

With overlapping strokes of her hands, she slathered oil and salt over his horns, working in long narrow streaks. The sound shivered through his skull, little rasping motions from the base of the horns up. He grunted again in annoyance, but held still.

When he sighed at her continued efforts, she dangled a cookie, feeding a bite to him and then taking a bite herself. This seemed to put him in a better mood. He relaxed enough for her to twist to get to the underside of his head.

As she raked oiled hands from his shoulders up his neck, he finally let out a rumbling growl of satisfaction. "There," Habrynn crooned. "See? You have to break the surface down… I don't think the salt is enough this time. I'll have to get the stones…"

"Stones?" Bull squinted. A memory flickered back to him of one of the less sensual visits to the Tamassrans. It had been so long now, almost a decade since he'd had the ministrations of the mainland available to him. He'd almost forgotten how they could work over a man's body. A spike of fear flared up.

"No, really, I don't- AGH!" A grating scrape reverberated through his head for a few quick moments, before she sloshed more water and scraped again. Bull growled into the worst of the noise, but it wasn't a pain so much as a agitating racket vibrating directly into his ears.

"Stop fighting it!" She ordered, "It's like a horses's hooves. You don't take care of them, they'll dry and break. I've seen a Qunari's horns snap off because he didn't take the time to groom them! What's a Bull without his horns?"

He grimaced, chomped his teeth together, and as if reading his mind, Habrynn popped another cookie into his mouth. He rewarded her with a nip as she pulled away.

"Ow," Habrynn chuckled, and ground a rough patch with extra determination. "There… Never expected the The Iron Bull to be such a big softy."

"Well, you keep feeding me chocolate, I imagine a lot more of me will be soft."

She went back to the salt scrub, working her hand down into the tender skin where the horn grew out from his temples. At first he jostled at her touch, but she continued, and they fell into a soothing silence as she diligently worked inch by inch, scrubbing the dirt away in small circles and easing the uneven skin.

"You know," Habrynn chuckled, "it's funny, but this saved my life."

"Secret Tamassran spa treatments saved your life?" Bull harrumphed.

"You all act like I was _leading_ the Valo-Kas. Couldn't be more wrong. When I happened upon Shokrakar I was young, still too pampered, and I'd never seen any of my own kind besides my family. Sure, having a rogue mage join the company seemed like a stroke of luck to him at first."

She leaned over double and planted a kiss on The Iron Bull's forehead, just over his dead eye, and removed the eyepatch, staring into the scar for a long time. He strained to look up at her expression as she continued talking while she rubbed little circles into the indent the tight band had left around his head. "But nothing will get you thrown out faster than lighting someone's tent on fire. Not once, but twice."

Bull chuckled despite the grim story, and Habrynn couldn't help but cough out a little laugh as well. "The last straw was when I accidentally burned Shokakar's arm in battle. He was going to kick me out on the spot. But, you see, I'd been doing this for Sata, and cooking up the balm my mom had taught me about. When Shokrakar said he didn't care if I starved in the wastelands, she swore she'd gut him before she went without balm another day!"

Bull and Habrynn laughed together, and he added, "How did they get along before you came along?"

"I know!" Habrynn thumped his shoulder for emphasis, running her oiled hands down his chest as she thought. "And none of them could cook! I mean, they knew how to put a stick in a chicken and not burn the WHOLE thing, but you would not believe how much loyalty an omelette will win you!"

"Let alone a good sauch-blanc… a simple bernaisse over a roast. Even a simple roast hen avec when you're stuck in a cold mountain pass waiting for a blizzard to pass. I mean, the things you can do to stretch a bag of black-grass with some herbs. You'd be amazed-" Bull stared up at her as she rambled, feeling his stomach growl.

"Kadan," Bull grunted. "You really are evil. You know that, right?"

Habrynn smiled down at him and whispered, "I know." She patted over his head with a towel, and smeared a dob of the balm across his forehead, and began to press hard in long, oval strokes over his temple, spreading the warmth and moisture over him with strong hands. It no longer seemed like such a wonder that her hands stayed so soft despite the trials she had been through. He could feel the heritage her mother had passed down to her through her fingertips, spreading the calming fire of the balm through him.

"I spent so long thinking that they were just the best I could do. That I was living a few steps above death. I was so bitter, so resigned to my life… never really considered what they did for me." She continued her ministrations, kneading the tough skin where the horns met his temples, and working the balm over his neck and pulling her fingers into his shoulders like greased claws.

The motions seemed strange at first, but he couldn't imagine anyone else would have hands strong enough to make a dent in his skin or muscles. He was drifting into a calm nap when a drop fell onto his cheek. When he opened his eyes, Habrynn was leaning back with a face drenched in tears, trying to wipe them aside with the flat of her arm.

"How do you do it?" Habrynn choked on a sob. "Keep going when the past just collapses in your footsteps?"

"You're asking me?" Bull guffawed, "I have no idea. I screw up as many things up as you. You have no idea how many people I lost in Seheron. How many times they had to patch me up because someone I should have seen got the drop on me." Bull snarled something about the Fog warriors under his breath, and gently parted her legs from his shoulders.

She felt the implication in his words, saw the outline of Krem and the others, dashed on the rocks in his mind, even though they were all alive and well, carousing in the Herald's Rest like usual. She sniffed, rubbed her neck and wiped her face again with the inside of an elbow, trying her best not to smear the caustic paste into his eyes. "I guess we both have places we can't return to we're still trying to protect-"

Bull just grunted in reply, and stared at the jar of balm, a crystal ball to a far off land.

"The Qun demands so much, and gives you so little," Habrynn soothed, pressing herself into his back, stroking her hands up and over his shoulders to dangle around his neck.

He contemplated the jar for a long time, spinning it in his hands and holding it up to the light. He finally set it down, and reached for his eyepatch, searching around him with little taps of his fingers. "The Heart beats. It cannot become a stomach, or a liver or lungs. The heart beats, and the many can live."

Habrynn sighed, and flicked the patch aside with a soft tinkle as it clattered under her desk. When Bull growled and pinned her to the ground, she smiled back at him wickedly. "It's the last little inch I've seen that no one else has," she purred.

Delicately, she ran two fingers over the rough remnants of that eyebrow ridge, persisting even as he flinched back from her touch, until he calmed enough to let her rest her hand on his left cheek, still surprised how a small change could make him look like a stranger to her all over again.

*,*,*

After another bout of love-making and an unintentional nap, Habrynn finally returned to the kitchens to retrieve her leftover ingredients as sunset was beginning to shift all of Skyhold to amber. What she found when she swung the heavy timber door open on squeaky hinges was a gossiping, effervescent bundle of the kitchen staff, all bent over the central carving block, nibbling away and fretting over the after-dinner requests from the higher staff members.

They all snapped to dead silence as she entered, fixing pin-point gazes on her as her silhouette and the light beaming into the dim kitchen blinded them. One of the youngest, a blotchy-faced young women with more freckles than skin glanced down to the carving block, and back to Habrynn, before nervously gulping down the brown bit she had been chewing on.

"Did none of you get the notice from head cook Mueller?" Habrynn growled. When a few of them shook their heads, and others nodded meekly, she continued, "There was still a full pound of pure pressed dark cacao there. You all finished it off in an HOUR?"

"Sundial says it's nearly eight, your grace-" The freckled girl began, before her culinary comrades grasped their hands around her mouth. A moment later, they were all stumbling, falling, or being physically kicked from the kitchen.

"No one gets dessert! The whole Hold, do you hear me?" Habrynn snarled as she roughly escorted the last one out. She pointed at whomever was still close enough as they all scurried off in every direction, "I'm docking that chocolate from your pay! EVERYONE'S PAY!"

As the dust cleared, she was left just a small handful of broken end bits to herself, and much more heartache than a pound of chocolate should give someone. As the sunset's light degraded from amber to soft red, and the sky burned violet and indigo overhead laced with fine gold-rimmed clouds, Habrynn sat outside the Hold on the cliffs overlooking the depth of the Frostback crevasse, contemplating her lost treat.

There were maybe a dozen pinky-nail sized small bits when she'd cleared the counter. Now there was just one left; a delicious thumbnail-sized bit of happiness she mulled over. The last remnant was knocked aside by a burlap pouch dropped into her waiting hands, as a familiar shadow stretched over her shoulder.

The smell hit her even over the pungent sweet green stench of the burlap. "But… where?" Habrynn stammered back to Cole.

He crouched on a rock nearby, smiling calmly as he fixated on the setting sun. "Curious cravings countering current conundrums… a small gift that heals a large hurt."

She unbound the pouch uncertainly, marveling at the new half pound block he'd gifted her. It wasn't as good as what Varric had smuggled, but it still smelled fresh enough to bring an appreciative smile to her face. "I'm normally against stealing… do I want to ask where you found this?"

"A Rivaini trader, looks like Dalish, talks like Fereldan, grips his dagger like an Antivan, and fears like an Andrastean. Not truthful, but is honest. He sells the ordinary to the Inquisition, and sells the strange along the way. He may have… forgotten to count this bag."

Habrynn smirked, "I wouldn't mind having this smuggler's name in Lelliana's records… for… official requisitions, of course."

Cole smiled back at her, "Of course."


	28. Epilogue

There was solace in the words of her fellow mages. Journals, momentos, and a surprising amount of personal effects had fallen into the new order's hands since the mage rebellion had fallen under Corypheus's sway and then the Inquisition's swords. Many of the arcane artifacts had obvious uses, Habrynn herself putting some into her own gear, and Vivienne and other loyal tower mages making claims to them for study or safe keeping, but that left many of strange objects that most of time were taking up space in Skyhold.

Clothing was mostly donated to the constantly rotating crowds of refugees. For more personal items like jewelry, they all made their best efforts to find their descendants, family, or loved ones. What the whole of the war council agreed on was the importance of the numerous diaries, correspondence, ledgers, and written records from the various hostile apostates they had encountered.

What none of them could come to an agreement on was exactly what to do with them. The collection made up a whole room by itself off from the library, and though Lelliana had devoted some of her own time and resources to filtering information from some of the more ominous, cyphered writings, that still left stacks and stacks of material that was mostly more personal, and less useful.

One day, Helisma had grabbed her by the sleeve with unhuman strength and would not release her hold on Habrynn's clothing until she had spoken her mind. She made it very clear that she was here to continue Minaeve's important work cataloguing their knowledge of creatures and foes of the Inquisition, _not _to read petty diaries of apostates.

"Besides, I have no understanding of their lives. I have never lived outside the circle. The work would be better served by your experience."

The task had fallen to her after Vivienne threatened to burn the collection as heresy, Dorian lost interest and Solas refused on grounds of "having better things to do with his time." Normally she also had better things to do, but she quickly learned that no one (aside from Helisma) ever thought to seek her out in the quiet, dim backrooms of the archives.

And in the later weeks of her recovery, she found the intimate writings of her 'fellow' apostates more engaging than she had imagined. They were not a unified mob of like-minded monsters, not even a engine of rebellion fueled by duplicate stories of outrage against the chantry. Each page revealed a new person to her, a new glimmer of a future she herself narrowly avoided, or a lesson she had yet to learn about herself.

Some were laments of lovers and children left behind when mages were banished to the circle towers, or writings attempting to console themselves as she waiting in the woods while escaping, shivering in the damp, hungry cold. Anger, regret, and ambivalence mingled between entries. Here she could see where a tear had blurred the ink and warped a dimple into the parchment, and in another place half an entry was burned in with a lingering smell of brimstone - a sure mark of spellcraft in the flames that killed their writer.

She had to take numerous breaks to fight against the stale air, despite her desire to burrow into the piles and hibernate some days. Such a break was long overdue when a baked good suddenly impacted the back of her head.

"Ow!" Habrynn snapped, scouring the piles for the offending object, then finally retrieving a sorry looking scone from a toppled pile of correspondence from various mage-blooded Orlesian nobles. Another pastry projectile flew her way, but this one she caught, though the force of it surprisingly stung her hand a little.

After inspecting the hard day-old roll, she glanced up to the silhouette in her doorway, "Why are you throwing bad bread at my head, Sera?"

Sera smirked and repositioned her basket of edible artillery to her hip. "Got your attention, right? Come on! I wanna show you some place!"

Daylight was already tracing long bars across the Archive floors by the time Sera coaxed her into the fresh air. habrynn didn't argue against the elf's unexplained jaunt as they wound their way up the high side of the Hold, taking decrepit wooden stairs and unrepaired stone steps. After a few minutes of uncertainty, they arrived at an unused walkway with a tiny tile roof still intact, overlooking all of Skyhold, from the smithy and the practice yards, clear all the way to Blackwall and Denett's stables.

They worked their way through the whole basket in near-silence, at times fencing with their fingertips for a fresher scone or a croissant over a piece of hard-tac, until Habrynn chomped into one of the curled Orelesian-style pastries, and made a face so scrunched with horror that Sera burst out laughing immediately.

"This is terrible!" Habrynn shouted, and tossed it as hard as she could into the yard, before and infectious chuckle caught her, and they both laughed and laughed unless Habrynn wheezed out, "I can't breath. My ribs hurt!"

Sera, obviously a marathon laugher, just snickered, "Maker's balls, what a wuss!"

"Those," Habrynn breathed painfully, "Are really the worst croissants I've ever had. I've GOT to teach our bakers to fold dough properly."

"Scones aren't bad," Sera shrugged.

"If you need a doorstop," Habrynn interjected, and received an answering bundle of giggles from Sera.

"Why are you still eating, then?" Sera poked her friend's face as Habrynn took another large chomp from the nearest piece.

She muttered, "I'm hungry," though crumb-filled lips.

Sera replied with an aggressive chomp of her own, and sputtered between bites, "At least they stopped using raisins." Grumbling a little, she added, "Made sure they had none." Sera's eyes lit up, and she chirped, "I know! Bet I can hit that guy with the red helm!"

Before Habrynn could chide, Sera had loosed her arm in a strong arc, and they watched as the last remnant curved, spun, and landed with a plink and the startled sound of a man in practice armour falling over himself as the whole of the practice yard burst into guffaws.

"Impressive," was all Habrynn could think to say.

"Yeh. Whatever. These're nowhere near as good as your cookies, though."

"You _did _eat them?" Habrynn smiled, "I'm glad.

Hugging her knees to her chin and rocking softly, Sera grinned like a bigger fool than usual, "They were way better when they weren't raw. I think I might like chocolate after all."

"Too bad," Habrynn snorted. "That stuff only comes from Rivain, and it's illegal to import it into Fereldan."

Sera gawked, "What? Bullox! Why would you ban something that good? Oh yeah," She sneered good-naturedly, "Cause Fereldans hate fun."

They both laughed again, short and mutally warm, until the silence of the late morning fell around them again. There was a strange mixture of temperature at the crest of the Hold, as the sun beat down with intense mountain clarity, heating you like a kettle while occasional breezes would blow icy air over you, ripping that warmth away with the merest kiss of air over your skin.

"I tried to kill myself," Habrynn blurted out.

Sera choked, finally spitting out a chunk of scone, which plunked down into the back alley of the Herald's Rest. "WHAT?!" she sputtered, "WHY would you do that?"

Habrynn glanced down at the sound of the requisitions officer lamenting the wet pastry bit that had landed right on his ear, and shook her head. "I tried to jump from my balcony… it was two weeks ago."

Sera glanced around at their current accommodations and grimaced, "I… not a very good choice on my part, yea?"

"I can't even explain why I did it, now… it's surreal to look back on it. Everything hurt. Just… _existing_... hurt… and I thought with all my heart that if I didn't die, more of you would be hurt by me."

Sera stared at her, dumbfounded. "Did I do this? The little spirit girl, she said she was "Joy." Ugh…I killed it! Didn't think you needed it."

"You didn't," Habrynn shook her head absently, "She's not dead, just weak. I admit, it's hard some days, though." She looked turned back to her with a weary smile. "You couldn't have known. Even I didn't really understand at the time."

"Wait… are you.. is she still… ugh," Sera grimaced, "then you're like that _weird _kid?"

Watching her carefully, Habrynn replied, "Would you hate me if I said 'yes'? Though Cole and I are alike… we're still vastly different."

"Piss-shit,"Sera hissed, chucking a hard croissant below with a nervous glee, before answering. "I dunno. I don't think I _**can**_ hate you, Tadwinks."

A flicker of a short silhouette crossed her mind, the smell of lyrium smelting, hearts and stars bouncing over a sweet, high voice. Eyes like the glint of gears in motion.

When the pieces came together, Habrynn snorted, "Pfft! Dagna?!"

Sera's ears went red, "WHAT?"

"Andraste's ass!" Habrynn guffawed "You flighty little _nug_, you're already _over _me? You've got a crush on the Archanist!"

"I do not!" Sera squealed, floundering, "Maybe, yeah, what do you care?!"

"Bloody hells, you'd be adorable together! She's weird! You're weird! You'll both be stupid happy and and have teeny tiny extra-short elfy children together-OW!" Habrynn was cut off by a punch to the arm that felt like it came from The Iron Bull rather than a stunted elf girl.

Habrynn shoved back and their good-natured brawl rolled them down the roof until they were nervously clinging to each other above the gutters. When they realized how stupid the squabble was at that height, they laughed so loud that the whole of the training ground were looking around for the source.

*,*,*

"You can't sleep here," Cabot prodded her shoulder from where she was slumped against the bar with her head in her hands.

Habrynn awoke from her late-afternoon stupor, and grumbled, "I'm not drunk."

"I know. I've only served you two ales! You're probably not even fuzzy around the edges, but you can't sleep here. Go back to your quarters, Inquisitor, or-"

"Or what?" She smirked, "You'll send Cullen after me?"

He glowered in response, then glanced past her, and turned away with a smirk.

"You should be taking it easy," Bull's soothing rumble whispered into her ear.

"I am. Cabot keeps telling me to go back to my quarters. But that wouldn't be very restful at all," Habrynn grinned, and twisted around to plant a quick kiss on Bull's lips. "Where have you been all day?"

Bull only replied with a slight furrowing of his brow. He had trained to hide expressions and read others, so she knew that slight tick was a give to put others more at ease compared with the completely stoney-face expressions of his peers.

And it worked. With tiny crush of his eyebrow, she was already forgetting her playful squabble with the bartender and following him back to his quarters, unsure if the look had been an invitation or a precursor to bad news.

When the heavy door was firmly closed behind them, he started plainly, "Your brother is alive and well." Her heart soared, and crashed as he finished, "And he's been welcomed into the Qun at Par Vollen."

"Then there's no chance," Habrynn muttered dejectedly.

"He has every chance to _excel_. My contacts recognized him instantly, and praised him."

"Bull," Habrynn tried to interrupt him.

"Apparently your father's craftsmanship was renowned even amongst my people, and he trained your brother very well in the meantime."

"Please, stop," Habrynn growled at the worn floorboards.

"They expect one day he'll be Ashgen, an architect and planner, like your-"

"Don't. Talk. About. My. FATHER." Habrynn snarled, grabbing onto Bull's chest straps and shoving him hard into a nearby wall, oblivious to the sound of trinkets and the odd weapon falling from his furnishings. "My FATHER. Has a NAME. Gerimonde! My BROTHER. Aevard. Has a NAME! I don't want to hear that I'm never going to see him again, in perfect-" She thumped his back into the wall for emphasis. "Qunari. DETAILS!"

Bull nervously glanced down to her hands, that were warm to the point of discomfort, but to both their reliefs, only glowing a dim amber, not wreathed in veilfire as they had the night before her breakdown had begun.

The glow was sobering. She loosened her grip and snapped away immediately, taking several long steps back to distance herself from what a part of her _really _wanted to do for a brief moment.

The words, "I'm sorry," echoed behind both their eyes before it was swallowed up in pride again, and The Iron Bull pushed himself back up. Surprisingly, he began to snicker. "Damn, Kadan, I'll have to remember how much this pisses you off the next time I have you tied up-"

"You wouldn't!" She balked, her anger instantly warped to a strange mix of chilly fear and smoldering desire. "And you're trying to change the subject."

"I get it. I really do, Kadan. The separation eats at you. Not knowing if you'll ever touch your family again. You forget, they're _all _my family, back in Par Vollen. You're Sarebaas. You can't go there except in chains." Habrynn cringed as he continued, "And I am Hissrad, too tainted and too useful to bring back."

The tables had turned in a few breaths, and now he had her pinned against the wall, chests crushed together, one large hand spiraling down her stomach, and the other against the wall, boxing her in.

"The Qun may demand your attention again someday. It may demand that you brother visit you in some official retinue, just to really twist the screws in. You've got to be better than that. I have no way of knowing the future, but neither of us will ever really know the full will of the Qun."

After bitterly trying to wriggle away from his grip, she relaxed into her sadness and let out a long sigh, "I don't know what I was hoping for."

"You were hoping I was wrong. But I'm seldom wrong," Bull crooned, then began to kiss her hungrily until she stopped trying to talk.

*,*,*

A sound like a leather ball striking stone echoed through the Hold, before the Iron Bull's growl of "AGAIN!" reached her ears. She followed the sound, hearing him say the word twice more, each time more agitated, more in need.

Cassandra stood ready before him, but neither one of them seemed interested in the training dummies around them. Instead, He was standing still, and she was poised to strike him with a dowel someone could easily mistake for a small tree.

"Grr, come on!" He snarled, "This is why the Qun doesn't like _women _fighting!" He stomped forward, little twitches of his cheeks flaring his nostrils as he growled down to the Seeker's level, "I should have asked Cullen!"

Cassandra, surprisingly calm despite his obvious bait, glanced over to Habrynn, and smiled faintly before she swung the limb around in a huge circle that swept into Bull's chin with a resounding crack. Bull's feet left the ground for a moment at the strength of the hit, and with a shuddering crash, he lay prone on the ground, barely able to groan out, "Good … one…"

With a feline look of satisfaction, Cassandra dropped the heavy weight into her hands, and sauntered off, "Perhaps you'd best take over."

"What… is this?" Habrynn pointed between him, the stick, and Cassandra's receding figure.

"Qunari training exercise, to master fear…" Bull grimaced, readjusting his shoulder guard as he picked himself up from the ground. "Been awhile since I needed it, but with all the crap that's happened in the last month.. the Nightmare.. the Tear…"

"Teach me, then?" Habrynn quipped, earning a slow chuckle from him.

"Yeah… Yeah! why not!" Bull continued to laugh quietly, sliding the staff from her hands before giving it a quick practice spin.

"What do I-?" Habrynn coughed, all the air knocked from her as he swung without warning. Blue swirled through her vision and there was an instant of black as she struck the ground flat on her back, gasping to breathe after the massive impact of the staff striking her stomach.

The Iron Bull laughed once more, short and clipped and strangely nervous for him. "I forget my own strength, sometimes, here, let me help you," With one tree-strong arm he yanked her back to her feet, and began to explain as she continued to hiss in breaths. "See. That's the first problem. You have to look into the enemy. Keep your eyes wide through the pain."

She flinched away from the second strike, finally standing straight moments before the impact. It still landed, and it stung. Bull was true to his word at least: it was much softer than the first impact.

"The second part is the stance. Don't move into the swing, or flinch away from it. Listen to your feet. Stand your ground."

He gave her a few moments to grind her feet into the pebbly grass, before he swung again. The third swing was stronger, but the advice helped. She could feel the slip as her feet slid from the force of his swing, but she held her ground.

She was just starting to wonder if it might be a good idea to remove her coat when he began to speak again, "Third part, is distraction."

"Distraction-OOF?" He struck without warning as she looked to him for an explanation. She planted her hands onto her knees, grimacing to try and let the pain subdue, as his gentle reminder echoed in her ears, "Breathe."

He continued, "Distracting you from _you_. Focus on your surroundings. don't go inward. Go outwards. Let your enemies and your surroundings fill you."

"O… urk.. okay," She grumbled, squinting up at him. It was amazing how hard it could be to focus when someone said, "don't focus on this other thing."

"The fourth facet is _pleasure_."

"WHAT?!" Habrynn snapped, and hopped backwards to avoid the swing. "No! You explain that one first!"

Bull laughed, stabbing the staff into ground to prop himself against it for a moment. "It's simple. You can't just fight with gloom and rage and sheer willpower. I know that worked for you long enough, but you have to find some PLEASURE in it, if you're gonna keep going. And you don't have a choice, Boss. _Your_ battles will never stop."

"Oh…. kay?" Habrynn squinted back at him. "I think I understand that.

"See… you have to enjoy taking your enemy apart."

"What if I can't ever do that?" Habrynn frowned. "Demons and monsters are one thing, but all the people we're up against? Raiders, templars, apostates… I just…"

"Then think about what's gonna be BETTER if you take'em down. Or even just how good it feels to be to be alive, and maybe just how much better it would be to NOT get eaten by a dragon. _Shooma Kan_… you have to get the good fluids going."

"Fluids?" Habrynn grinned mischievously up at him.

Bull blinked back for a moment, and then growled pleasantly, "Alright, if that's what you're gonna hold onto-"

He struck again. She was starting to feel his advice helping, or maybe it was just adrenaline finally dulling the pain. The impact was becoming tolerable, even as she could tell he was putting more strength into them. Her mind was ahead of her actions.

He gave one more fierce strike, and paused, suddenly solemn. "Last facet."

"Yeah?"

"You have to let it out," He commanded.

"Huh?" Habrynn puzzled, releasing the tension of hands that had balled into fists without her noticing before now.

"You've got to say it out loud. The feeling, the response, the fear. Shout back into the darkness. Keeping it in is what blocks the shoomas in the first place."

He struck, and it hurt as much as the first one, though it didn't knock her back. She wasn't prepared as he hit again, and she stumbled back a step.

"Come on!" He roared.

"WHAT?!" She shouted back.

"Better!" And he struck the staff into her gut.

She coughed, stumbled, and he growled to her as he advanced, "What do you have to say, Boss?"

He struck, and she cried out as the pain began to burn, multiplying again with the strikes, "AUGH! I don't know!"

"Getting there," Bull growled. "Not worried about any demons?"

He struck, and Habrynn snarled back, "I dealt with the last pack! I'll send the next set packing!"

"Yeah!" Bull laughed. "And Corypheus?"

Another strike, and Habrynn nudged her feet forward, shouting, "He's gonna wish he never came out of the fade!" Another strike, and she declared at the top of her lungs, "I'm gonna send him back in pieces-OOF!"

Bull struck one last time, harder than even the first blow. Habrynn flew backwards, feeling a rush of air before a crash of stars, black, and pain swirled over her, and it took all her concentration to breathe properly and avoid vomiting up her breakfast on the spot. As her vision brightened and her lungs cooled, all she could think of was how amazingly blue the sky was from this position.

Then Bull's concerned smirk loomed over her, obscuring those perfect doubled clouds.

"A-h, sorry, Boss," Bull chuckled, and then let out a lusty breath, "I started to get into it." He held out his hand to help her up, and she accepted it. He hoisted her back to her feet effortlessly, while her ribs were screaming from the ignored abuse. "You alright, Kadan?"

Habrynn stared back up at him for a long time, locking her eyes to his as a giddy grin spread over her face.

"Yeah," she exhaled. "I think I'm going to be all right."

THE END.

FOR NOW.

REALLY.

Author's Note: Thank you all for reading! I know there's 15-30 of you that have read this the whole way through. I want to thank you all from the bottom of my heart, especially my best friend Em who councilled me through a serious depression, and then was my beta-reader, editor and brainstormer while I was working on this. It's a little disconcerting that my muse would have me write 60-70 thousand words of a story I can't ever really 'publish', but working on Habrynn's story has been an amazing way to recover from my own problems.

I have a few small one-offs I may write involving Habrynn (mainly to do with what you learn of the Augurs in Hakkon, and one about her dealing with the Rage Demon in Crestwood), but basically, this was the core of her struggles, and the largest hurdle she had to get over. I imagine that with her affinity for magic, her careful studies with Solas, and people as dependable as Bull by her side, Corypheus will be a pushover!

Thanks again for reading, and a big thanks to BioWare for making a series as amazing as Dragon Age. It may have literally saved my life.


End file.
